Ties That Bind
by 3rdgal
Summary: More Don whumping from yours truly, complete with Eppes family angst.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters and I don't make any money off of them.

**A/N:** Thanks as always to ritt, the world's best beta and sounding board! Goodness knows I'd never finish the multi-chapter stories without her help.

"This is not good," Colby stated as he looked around the small room with a scowl on his face. "Not good at all."

"I know," Megan agreed as her eyes trailed a long smear of blood across the hardwood floor. Her stomach knotted as she observed the large pool of blood at the end, next to a family photo and shards of broken glass. She looked over her shoulder at the other pool of blood by the front door. "What the hell happened?" she wondered aloud.

"No bodies," Colby offered hopefully. "That's one good thing we can say about this."

"I'm not sure I'd consider that good news. Their attacker could have moved the bodies or taken them somewhere else to…" She stopped, unwilling to finish the thought.

Megan had tried calling Charlie's house as soon as Don's cell had cut out and was dismayed to receive no answer. She had left David in interrogation with their suspect while she and Colby swung by Charlie's to look for their boss. Upon seeing the Eppes' cars – including Don's SUV – in the driveway but getting no response to her knocking, she had told Colby to break down the door. Megan had never suspected what they would find inside…

"Hey guys," David said as he joined them in the living room, having come over shortly after their arrival. "He's here."

"Oh boy," Megan sighed. "This is going to be tough."

"I'll do it," Colby offered.

"No," she shook her head. "I should be the one that tells him." Megan walked toward the front door and motioned for the agent there to let the new arrival through.

"Megan!" Larry called frantically. "What happened?"

"We're not sure yet," she said, keeping her voice low in an attempt to calm the man before her.

"Where are they?" the physicist demanded. "They're not-"

"No! They're not dead," she said, hoping she wasn't telling him a lie. Larry sighed and clutched at his chest with a shaky hand. "But they _are_ missing."

"Missing?" he breathed.

"Yes. Do you have any idea of anything that might have been going on? Any problems with Alan or Charlie?"

"No," he shook his head in frustration. "Nothing. Do you think…"

"I think it's too early for speculation," she told him firmly.

"Of course," he sighed. "I never would have imagined this happening."

"I know, Larry. We'll find the Eppes, I promise. All three of them."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Earlier**

"Dad?" Charlie called out as he entered his Craftsman house. "Are you home?" He tossed his keys on the table by the door and shrugged out of his jacket. He began flipping through the mail as he automatically headed for the living room.

"Hello, Charlie," a cool voice greeted him.

The professor looked up, his mouth dropping open as he saw a ragged looking man dressed in torn, filthy sweats standing behind his father. Alan was gagged and bound in a chair and giving Charlie a look of complete panic as the strange man held a knife to his throat. "Who are you?" Charlie whispered.

"You don't recognize me?" the stranger asked with smile. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"I'm sorry," Charlie began in an attempt to ease the other man's mood.

"Don't be – it's not important."

"What do you want with us?" Charlie very slowly took a step toward the coat rack by the front door, where his cell phone was resting in his jacket pocket.

"I wouldn't, Professor." The stranger pressed the knife against Alan's throat stopping only when a small red trickle appeared. "You don't want me to hurt Daddy, do you?"

"No," the younger man begged. "Please don't."

"Good boy, Charles Edward. Now, there is something I need for you to do." The stranger beckoned him closer and shoved him into an empty chair next to his father. He quickly bound Charlie to the chair, leaving only his left hand free and pressing Charlie's cordless phone into it. "You're going to call your brother – his cell – and tell him he needs to come over right away."

"Why?" Charlie asked. "What are you going to do to him?"

"Just make the call!" the strange man roared as he again pressed the knife to Alan's throat. "Don't make me _convince_ you."

The professor quickly nodded and shakily dialed Don's number. As the phone rang, Charlie looked up at their captor. "What do I-"

"Just get him over here, Charlie-boy."

_Charlie-boy?_ the young man wondered to himself. _No one's ever called me that, except…_ "Doug?"

"So you do remember," he laughed.

"Eppes," Don's voice answered over the phone. Charlie was so unnerved he didn't respond. "Hello?"

"Don," he finally managed, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky as he felt.

"You okay, Buddy?"

"I'm fine. I'm just… I'm excited. I had a break on the Murray case."

"The Murray case?" Don echoed. "But we finished that…"

Charlie didn't hear the rest of his brother's words, instead watching in horror as Doug slammed a large, framed family photo over his father's head. "No hidden signals," the dirty man hissed as Alan fell to the floor, unconscious. "You get cute, and Daddy dies."

"_Charlie?_ What was that noise?"

"Sorry," the professor replied. "I broke a picture frame."

"Well, be careful or Dad'll start harping on you – you know how he feels about his mementos. Now, the Murray case?"

"Right. I've got info that might help with his sentencing."

"Really?" his brother asked. "That's great. Listen, though – I've got a suspect interview I have to conduct in a few minutes. Can I come by after lunch?"

"No, you can't. I have classes and then some work to do with Larry."

"How about I drop by CalSci later on then?"

"No, Don," Charlie insisted. "I need to tell you now."

"Okay, Buddy," Don sighed. "If you say so. I'll be over in about ten minutes – will that do?"

"Yes," Charlie told him, hating himself for bringing Don into the situation. "That's good."

Don's cell disconnected and Charlie looked up at Doug, giving him a pleading look. "You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

The other man let out a low, cold laugh as he knelt and dragged Alan to the coffee table and taped his bound hands to it. "No more than the three of you hurt me."

"We didn't-" Charlie was cut off as Doug crammed a vile tasting rag into his mouth, sealing it in place with duct tape. He then bound Charlie's free hand to the chair and moved to stand behind the front door.

He chuckled and pulled a gun from his pocket. "Think Don will be as happy to see me as you two were?"

--

"Reeves," Megan answered her phone.

"It's me," Don told her. "Look, I'm going to be a little late to the interview."

"Late?" she repeated. "Don, he's been sitting there for a while. He's going to lawyer up if you don't hurry."

"I know, but Charlie called and he needs to give me some info on the Murray case."

"We closed that months ago," she argued.

"He says he's got something that would help with the sentencing," Don said as he pulled into the driveway of Charlie's house.

"Can't that wait?" she asked in annoyance.

"He was really insistent," Don told her as he climbed out of the SUV. "You know how much stuff he does for us."

"I know, but still… You want me to conduct the interview instead?"

"No," Don told her as he let himself in the front door of his family's home. "I'll do that. This shouldn't take that long – don't-" He stopped short as he glanced into the living room and saw his brother bound to a chair and his bloody father lying on the floor. Then a sudden blinding pain registered in his mind as his knees gave out and he crashed to the floor. Don vaguely heard Megan calling his name as a blurry hand reached into his, removed his cell and flipped it shut.

"Welcome home, Agent Eppes."

Don opened his mouth to speak, but the darkness closed in and carried him away.

--

"You fight me or try to run away and you can say goodbye to your family," Doug warned as he loomed over Charlie's bound form. "Got it?"

The professor nervously nodded and watched, wide-eyed, as his captor removed his gag and cut the tape binding him to the chair. He started to rub at the sticky residue on his wrist but the gun waved in his face halted his movements. "You don't move unless I say," Doug hissed. "I thought you understood that?"

"Sorry," Charlie whispered hoarsely.

"Now, help me grab your brother." The two men lifted Don from the floor – Charlie with care and Doug with a haste that elicited a moan from the unconscious agent. "There's a van parked in the back alley. We're going to put him inside." Charlie nodded and followed his captor's lead until they reached a battered, dark blue Econoline. Doug shoved the agent in the darkened interior and motioned for Charlie to get inside next to him. Tossing him two sets of plastic police cuffs, he ordered, "Bind his hands and feet and make them tight. I'm going to check behind you and if I think you're trying anything, Don is going to pay dearly."

Charlie nodded and obediently fastened the restraints on his brother. "Gag him," was the next command issued as Doug tossed a dirty shop rag at him. "Tape it in, nice and secure."

The young man fought back tears of frustration and fear as he effectively turned his brother into a helpless victim. When he had finished, he looked questioningly at the other man. "Now what?"

"Now we get your father, too."

"No," Charlie pleaded. "Just take me – and Don. Why do you need our father?"

"Charlie-boy, you sure can be dense." Doug shrugged as he rolled Don onto his back and brought the butt of the gun crashing down onto the agent's kneecap.

"No!" Charlie cried out as Don howled in pain.

Doug pinned the professor to the side of the van and covered his mouth to keep him quiet. "I said cooperate. If you don't then I hurt your brother and father." He pointedly looked at the unconscious agent and then back to the curly haired genius. "See how that works?"

The wide-eyed young man nodded, remaining silent as Doug threw him to the ground and slammed the van door closed. He harshly yanked the professor to his feet and shoved him in the direction of the house. A few minutes later, Charlie had repeated his earlier actions with Don on his father. "Now what?"

"Your feet," Doug commanded as he tossed a pair of cuffs to Charlie. Once the younger man had obeyed, his captor forced him onto his stomach and cuffed his hands behind him. The finishing touch was the foul rag from earlier, sealed in place by several layers of tape. "Now, just relax and enjoy the ride. Maybe think about how you and your _family_ ruined my life."

Charlie heard the van door shut as the back of the van was plunged into darkness. He tried to peer through the gloom to check on his brother and father, but he couldn't make out anything. He started to inch his way forward when the van took off with a jerk, throwing him off-balance and sending him slamming into the wall. Determination kicked in and he winced as he struggled against the plastic ties that bound his hands behind his back, his only reward being a painful burning in his wrists as he scraped and bruised the flesh. He paused for a minute to catch his breath, gagging as he tasted the vile cloth that was shoved in his mouth to keep him silent.

A sharp turn of the vehicle, followed by a loud thump and grunt of pain from his left drew his attention and he tried to scoot toward the sound, encumbered by the violent jostling of the vehicle. Charlie eventually bumped into another person – his size and shape as well as the texture of the old flannel shirt he wore telling him that he'd found his father. The professor mumbled unintelligibly through his gag and heard his father's muffled voice answer.

Charlie nudged his father away and in the direction of another pain-filled sound – this time recognizing his brother's voice. He felt the older man also inching his way across the floor and stayed close behind, stopping only when his father stopped. He listened to Alan's muffled voice as he attempted to ask a question, but there was no response – only silence as the vehicle bounced along the rough road.

As he lay there – stunned and afraid – Charlie prayed that he hadn't just sealed their fates.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Present**

Doug Banks hummed along with the radio as he drove the stolen Econoline van down the old, country road. There were no road signs, no speed limit signs – no sign of civilization – where he was going. His destination was literally off the map, so unless someone knew what they were looking for, he and his captives would never be discovered. Doug let a smile creep onto his face at that promising thought.

_All the heartache the Eppes put me through,_ he thought to himself. _Now it's time for me to have my revenge._

He carefully maneuvered down a steep incline off of the dirt road and into a grassy clearing. When he'd been a child he'd always loved coming out here to his grandfather's place. Together they would hunt the deer and wild turkey while the old man taught Doug his views on life.

"_Family is everything, Douglas. Without it you ain't got nothing."_

Young Doug had taken his words to heart, which made it so much harder when his parents had both perished in an automobile accident when he was just twelve. His grandfather – for all of his spoken beliefs about family – had refused to take him in, citing his age and busy day-to-day schedule as his reason for casting his grandson into the foster care system.

_I turned out okay,_ Doug chanted silently. _I survived and finally found a family where I could belong._

He smiled as he remembered meeting Charlie and Alan Eppes for the first time. He'd been twenty-five years old, had hit it off with the young genius immediately and was further thrilled when Alan had taken on the role of a father figure to him. Margaret had been friendly, but always kept her distance as if she sensed something wasn't quite right. But Doug hadn't needed her – just Alan and Charlie. And then the unthinkable had happened…

_Don't dwell in the past!_ Doug yelled at himself. _You can't change it, so don't bother worrying over it._

Doug lowered the volume on the radio and concentrated once again on the rugged terrain. He was so eager to get back to the desolate homestead that he had to fight the temptation to drive like a madman, reminding himself if he did – and got into an accident – his plans and hard work would be for nothing. No, patience was the key – he'd have plenty of time once they were settled to exact his revenge – to make Don Eppes pay for ruining his life.

--

"Think hard, Larry," Megan encouraged her friend as they sat at the Eppes' dining table. "Did anything out of the ordinary happen this week?"

"No," he insisted. "Nothing."

"Did Charlie seem off in any way?"

"If anything he was even more productive than usual this week. He'd made quite a breakthrough on his Cognitive Emergence Theory."

"What about Alan? Have you spoken to him this week?"

"I came over to use the shower a few days ago. He was fine, Megan." Larry covered his face with his hands and sighed. "Who would do this to them?"

"I don't know," she answered quietly. "We're checking out all of the cases Don and Charlie have been working on, but I don't see how any of those would involve Alan."

"Megan," Colby called from the front door as he waved her over.

She nodded to him and turned to Larry, covering his hand with her own. "Wait here for me, okay?" When the physicist nodded, Megan rose and joined Colby. "What's up?"

"One of the neighbors gave us a lead," he whispered so that Larry couldn't overhear him. "She said there was a dark blue, beat up van parked in the back alley late this morning."

"Did she see the Eppes get into it?" she asked hopefully.

"No. She thought it was odd, but didn't want to cause any unnecessary alarm, so she decided to eat her lunch and then see if it was still there. When she did look later, it was gone."

"Plates? Make? Model?"

"Nothing," Colby snorted. "There's a reason she's home in the middle of the day – she's got a little drinking problem."

"Great," Megan sighed in disgust. "Any other neighbors report seeing the same thing?"

"Nope. There's a couple who aren't home right now, so David left a business card on their doors with a note to call us."

Megan looked back at Larry and forced a weak smile onto her face as she whispered, "I've got a bad feeling about this one, Granger."

"Me, too."

--

Doug backed the old van into the wide doorway of the barn. He killed the engine and climbed out, humming as he walked further into the gloomy interior. He inhaled deeply and sighed as fond memories of his childhood flooded his brain. He and his grandfather had spent many hours in the barn – caring for the old man's horses and learning to ride.

_It's a pity I had to get rid of them,_ Doug sighed to himself. _But I couldn't very well keep my existence up here a secret if I had to keep buying supplies for them in town. No, it had to be this way._

He opened the door to the musty tack room and switched on the bare bulb overhead. Doug opened a storage closet and tugged a small chest into the center of the room. Removing a key from his pocket, he unlocked it and smiled at the assortment of goodies inside. Banks grabbed a bottle and a syringe and loaded it up to what he was _almost_ certain was the correct dose for someone Don's weight. He carefully replaced the bottle and picked up the three pairs of shiny, new metal restraints, idly fingering them in his hand before closing and locking the chest.

Doug exited the room, plunging it into darkness and locking the door behind him. He ambled to the van, pulling out his gun and dropping the restraints by an old, converted horse stall along the way. Taking a deep breath, Banks threw open the van doors and aimed the pistol inside. He fought the urge to laugh at the confusion on his captives' faces as they tried to get accustomed to the light that was now filling the van.

"Nothing stupid, gentlemen," their captor warned them. "I'm not afraid to kill anyone." He grabbed Don's feet and – with one smooth motion – slid him out of the van to land hard on the dirt floor. Banks immediately sat on the agent's waist and pinned him to the ground as he pressed the gun to his temple. "Nothing stupid," he hissed to Charlie and Alan. As they nodded meekly, Doug jabbed the syringe into Don's neck with his left hand and quickly emptied the contents, laughing as Don let out a grunt of surprise.

The two remaining captives screamed into their gags and frantically shook their heads.

"Don't worry," he assured them. "Just a sedative so Mr. Big Tough Fed can't fight back. Now, if you two will excuse us, we have some business to attend to." He grinned at the looks of horror on their faces before slamming the van doors closed. He turned his attention to the unconscious agent beneath him and a cold, ruthless smile appeared on his face. "Shall we get settled, Don? I think you're going to love your new home."

He shoved the gun into the back of his jeans and lifted the heavy agent onto his shoulder. Doug had been working out in preparation for his plan, so he barely panted as he hauled the hapless agent further into the barn. Reaching his destination, he dropped Don into a pile at his feet and retrieved an old stool he'd used to mount the horses when he was little. Doug knelt at the agent's side and drew out his hunting knife, quickly slicing through the plastic ties on his captive's hands before replacing them with a pair of the metal shackles. Doug cut the ties on his feet and grabbed the chain linking Don's hands, stepping onto the stool and dragging the agent upward by his restraints. There was an old, rusty hook that had been used for hanging an assortment of items throughout the years and Doug easily looped the chain over it before letting go.

Banks stepped down and kicked the stool out of the way, admiring his handiwork. Don was now strung up by his wrists with his feet barely touching the ground and his head hanging forward to rest against his chest. Although he'd tested it several times in the past few weeks, Doug glanced up to make sure the hook was supporting Don's weight with no sign of strain on the overhead beam into which it was screwed.

_Working like a charm,_ he thought happily. _And with the way that hook curves back on itself, there's no way that worthless Fed can free himself – not without a stool and someone to steady him._

He stepped close to Don and – although he knew he should save it for when he had a _captive_ audience – he couldn't resist the urge to punch him. He landed a hard blow to the agent's face, smiling as a bruise instantly formed around his right eye.

"That's just the beginning," Doug hissed to the unconscious man. "We still have lots more fun ahead of us."

--

Charlie leaned against Alan and tried not to imagine what their captor might be doing do his brother. All sorts of disturbing images swirled in his mind and the young man had to fight to remain calm. As he rested against his father, the professor could feel the tension in the older man's body and knew he was trying not to think the same thoughts.

The van doors opened again and Charlie blinked against the sudden light as he looked for any sign of his brother.

"I've made Don… comfortable," Doug announced, his tone sending a chill down Charlie's spine. "Now it's your turn. You first, Charlie-boy."

The young man froze in place until he felt his father's shoulder gently nudging him. He glanced at Alan whose silent gaze reminded him why they had to cooperate – they had no idea where Don was or what condition he was in – and Charlie gave his father a barely perceptible nod before inching his way toward Doug.

"Glad to see you've still got those smarts of yours," his captor chuckled as he removed his gag and cut the restraints on his feet. Doug helped him out of the van and closed the doors on Alan. "I'm going to guide you by your elbow and you'd better not even think of trying to get away."

Charlie nodded mutely as he swallowed around the cloth in his mouth. He warily studied Doug, shocked at how much his appearance had changed over the years. When they had first met, Doug had been a lean young man with a head of blond curls that had rivaled Charlie's. He'd always had a smile plastered on his face and – when he was especially happy – his grin had been wide enough to light up the world. Now his hair was shorter than Don's and had streaks of white running through it. He was no longer lean, but muscular and athletic, and the only smile he seemed capable of giving lacked any sign of compassion or joy.

"Didn't Daddy ever teach you that staring is impolite?" Doug sneered. "If you'd bothered to keep in touch through the years, maybe you wouldn't be so shocked to see me. Maybe you wouldn't be in this situation at all."

Before Charlie could process the words, he saw Don hanging from a beam in the barn. His first instinct was to run to his side and make sure he was okay, but Doug's earlier command rang in his head. Instead he settled for locking his gaze on his brother and not looking away, blindly letting Doug steer him to their destination.

"Sit!" Doug barked as he pushed on the professor's shoulder.

Charlie clumsily obeyed, reluctantly tearing his gaze from Don to see where Doug was putting him. His eyes grew wide as he found himself in an old horse stall that had clearly been modified for this situation. The front of the stall had been removed and replaced with thick-gauged wire and a small door. The sides of the stall had been completely boarded up, leaving no gaps through which someone might escape. Charlie frowned as his captor cut the restraints on his wrist, only to replace them with a pair of shackles – one end around his right wrist and the other to a ring that had been bolted into the wall.

"Is that too tight?" Doug asked, and the professor was shocked to hear something resembling concern in the other man's voice.

"It's… not comfortable."

"It's not supposed to be," Banks retorted. "But I don't want you losing a hand on me." He gruffly felt the metal around the genius' wrist and nodded. "That's fine. You wait here and I'm going to get Daddy."

"What-" Charlie quickly halted as his captor fixed him with a glare.

"Look, for the last time, Charlie-boy – no speaking, moving, nothing without my permission, or someone gets hurt."

The curly haired man shrunk back and tried to look contrite, letting out a deep sigh of relief when Doug disappeared without inflicting further harm on Don. He desperately wanted to call out to his brother and let him know he was there, but Charlie was terrified Doug might overhear him and…

_No, I can't risk it Don,_ the professor silently told him.

He rested his head against the wall behind him and stared at his brother, wondering just how much worse their situation was going to get.

--

"We got another break," David announced as he rushed into the FBI bullpen. "One of the neighbors got home and gave me a call. Turns out they'd seen the same van in the back alley – two days ago. She got a plate number, but it came back as stolen."

"Damn," Megan swore. "Wait, two days ago? So there's a good chance whoever did this was casing the house?"

"So maybe someone had it in for Alan or Charlie and Don just walked in on it?" Colby wondered aloud.

"Charlie called Don and asked him to come over – that's when Don's cell cut out," Megan informed him. "But it was weird…"

"What was?' David inquired.

"Charlie told Don he had info on the Murray case."

"We closed that months ago," Colby replied.

"I know," the female agent stated. "I mentioned that, but Don said it was information to help with the sentencing phase, and that Charlie was insistent that he had to talk to him right then."

"That does seem a little odd," David muttered. "Maybe he was trying to send Don a message?"

"Which means Don could be the target," Colby sighed in frustration. "Someone was making Charlie call him to the house and he was trying to warn Don before he got there."

"That doesn't explain why someone was casing the Eppes' house, though," David countered. "Unless whoever did this really did want all three of them."

"Charlie's a smart man," Megan stated, her face lighting up hopefully. "Maybe the Murray reference was a warning. Let's pull the case file and see if anything jumps out at us."

"Want us to interview Murray, too?" Colby suggested. "If it was a warning, maybe Murray is behind it somehow, or knows information that might help."

"Couldn't hurt," the female agent nodded. "Although I don't see him cooperating with us – not after we just put him away."

Colby and David glanced at each other – a moment of silent communication between them – and then looked to Megan. "We can very _persuasive_ when we need to," Colby assured her.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Doug stood in front of the stall, eyeing his handiwork with a grin of satisfaction. He now had Alan restrained in an identical fashion to Charlie and watched as the two men huddled together under his hard gaze.

"Any idea why you're here?" he asked, keeping his tone conversational.

The two men seemed to think it best to remain quiet and waited for Doug to continue.

"No?" he laughed bitterly. "Don's not going to like that." Banks pulled his knife from its sheath and turned his attention to the agent hanging behind him.

"Please don't hurt him," Charlie spoke softly. "Just tell us what you want."

Doug glanced over his shoulder and grinned maliciously. "What if hurting him _is_ what I want?"

"No, Doug," Alan spoke up. "You were never like that. You were a good person."

"_Were,_" Banks spat. "Things change." He turned to Don and pressed the tip of the knife against his shoulder, before ripping it down the sleeve of his shirt. He reveled in the gasps of shock behind him, followed by sighs of relief as they realized he hadn't cut Don. He repeated the same action on his other sleeve, and slowly shredded the shirt until the agent was bare-chested in the cold winter air. He knelt and quickly removed Don's shoes and socks from his limp legs, tossing them aside and looking in the direction of the stall. "You know how many nights I spent in the freezing cold? I was homeless for a while and I just remember never being able to get warm." Banks patted the agent's bare stomach and raised an eyebrow in question. "Wonder how Don will like that?"

"Doug," Alan said in his most compassionate voice. "You were like family to us, son. You don't want to hurt us."

"Why not?" he snarled as he looked at Alan and Charlie. "You hurt me. But Don here hurt me the most, so he's going to pay for it – nice and slow."

Banks walked to a workbench just out of view of the stall and picked up an empty bucket. He hummed as he patiently filled it from a nearby tap, relishing the feel of the icy-cold water as he let it run over his fingers. Once the bucket had grown heavy in his grip, he turned off the tap and returned to the stall, setting it down where Charlie and Alan could see it. "Are you thirsty?" he asked.

"Yes," Charlie replied nervously.

"Can't have that," Banks smiled amiably as he returned to the workbench and brought back two canteens. He filled each one, opening the door and tossing them into the stall where the two men could reach them. He casually leaned against the wire and watched as father and son drank greedily.

"Don?" Charlie asked hopefully.

"Of course," Banks nodded. He picked up the bucket and took the three steps needed to stand next to Don's side. "Here you go," he hissed as he doused the hanging man's body.

--

Don jolted awake as several sensations assaulted him at one time. He'd been blissfully unaware, but that world had been shattered as a freezing, wet sensation had poured over him, making his lungs seize in his chest. As he started to regain control of his breathing, an intense burning sensation in his shoulders and arms threatened to send him back to the world of darkness. Don was more than agreeable to that idea, but a sharp slap on his cheek followed by an angry voice kept him from escaping the pain.

"Wake up, Don!"

The agent groggily opened his eyes and weakly shook his head to keep the water from running into his eyes. As the world came into focus, he saw his captor standing in front of him and leaning close as he shouted. Don involuntarily pulled back, sending Doug into a fit of laughter.

"You scared, Fed? Maybe your brother ain't the only smart one in the family after all."

_Charlie? Oh no, he has them, too. I remember…_

Don squinted and looked over Doug's shoulder, his heart sinking as he saw his brother and father restrained in some kind of wire cage. He wanted to ask them if they were okay, but he couldn't around the disgusting cloth shoved in his mouth.

"Don't worry," Banks laughed. "They're fine. They're not the ones I want right now."

Don's stomach knotted at his captor's implied threat and he forced himself to focus on his situation. He realized his hands were restrained over his head and glanced up to see the metal bracelets as they bit into his skin. He could just feel the ground beneath the balls of his feet, and was grateful he wasn't fully suspended, knowing the ache in his arms would have been a thousand times worse. A shooting pain in his knee reminded him that almost completely suspended still wasn't a good thing, although he didn't know why the one knee would be hurting so badly.

"So," Doug said as he circled Don like a shark. "Now that you're awake we'll begin."

_Begin what?_ Don wondered fearfully.

He watched as his captor retrieved something from a workbench and slowly returned to his side, holding up the object in his hands for the three Eppes to see. "Looks harmless enough, right?"

Don thought it looked anything but harmless, but could only watch as Doug flaunted the item in front of his father and brother.

"This was one of the reins off my old riding bridle," he lectured as he ran the worn leather over his palm. "Grandfather taught me to take good care of my riding equipment and in turn it would take good care of me." Doug waved the rein to his side and snapped his wrist, grinning at the loud crack of the leather. "I forgot to clean it once and boy, was he mad. Taught me a lesson right then and there."

_Oh God, no,_ Don thought despairingly. _Not here – not in front of Dad and Charlie._

Doug's hand slid around to rub the long scars that covered his lower back. "But it was a good lesson for me." He turned away from the stall and fixed Don with a cold stare. "And it's going to be a good lesson for you, too."

--

Charlie watched in terror as Doug – once his friend, now some madman out for revenge – circled his helpless brother, randomly swinging the rein through the air. His fear for his big brother intensifying, the professor began to twist and tug at the metal bracelet locked around his wrist.

"It won't give, Charlie-boy," Doug calmly stated. "Only the best for my family."

_Family?_ Charlie wondered. _His family kept manacles on hand? That explains a lot._

"I know you two want to help Don," Banks remarked as he snapped the worn leather in his hands. "And as ridiculous as that is, I'm willing to work something out."

"What?" Charlie asked, pouncing on even the hint of helping his brother.

"I'm going to ask you some questions and you two – together, if you like – are going to answer. Answer correctly, Don goes unscathed. Answer wrong…" He trailed off and sliced the rein through the air, smiling as it landed against Don's stomach.

Charlie's heart broke as he watched Don try to avoid the blow, only to wince in pain when it lashed across his belly. "Don!"

The agent met Charlie's eyes and gave him a firm look – one that said, 'I'll be okay, Buddy – just hang in there'.

_Leave it to Don to comfort me when he's being tor-_ The professor couldn't let himself even think that word, so he looked up at Doug and defiantly jutted out his chin. "What questions?"

"You always were eager to show of those smarts of yours. First question: What date did we first meet?"

"What?" Alan asked.

"What kind of question is that?" Charlie asked, dumbfounded.

"Apparently one you don't know the answer to." Doug swung the rein again, this time leaving a red welt on Don's lower back. Don swayed on his feet, but didn't cry out.

"You didn't give us a chance to answer!" Charlie angrily protested.

"Fine," Banks sighed. "What's the answer?"

The professor looked at his father who shrugged in helplessness. Turning to his former friend, he said, "It was sometime in 2000. We met at a bike shop."

"Nice that you remember that," Doug smiled. "But that's not the _date_." He swung again, putting more force into it, and another welt appeared on Don's upper back, this one leaving behind a thin trail of blood.

"Stop!" Alan cried. "Please stop hurting him!"

"Then answer the questions correctly, Mr. Eppes. Question two: What is the first thing we ever had at your house for dinner?"

Charlie barely heard the question, his focus on Don as his brother glared at Doug. "Mom cooked," he finally said.

"Pot roast," Alan offered, playing the odds since that had been one of his wife's best meals.

"Wrong again." Another lash, another welt, and Don still refused to cry out. "Geez, Don. You'd think if they cared about you, they might actually try for a right answer, huh?"

Charlie saw the blatant fury that swirled in Don's eyes and knew that if he wasn't restrained, Doug would be in a bloody pile on the ground.

"Question three: What was the score of our first game of Scrabble?"

"You can't even possibly know that!" Alan snapped in anger. "You're just setting us up with impossible questions so you can hurt Don!"

"While I do enjoy hurting him, I can assure you, Mr. Eppes, that I know the answer to every single one of these questions. You tend to remember things like that when they're important to you."

"A Scrabble game is important to you?" Alan asked in shock.

"Guess that means you don't know the answer."

Charlie could only watch as Doug brought the rein crashing down on his brother's chest again, praying that his former friend would soon run out of questions.

--

Alan sat with his head against the wall, eyes closed, and tried to block out the memory of what he'd just seen. The whipping session had seemed to go endlessly, Don growing weaker and weaker as he sagged in his bonds, putting more pressure on his arms and shoulders. Alan had wanted nothing more than to ease his son down, hold him close, and make the pain go away. Well, that and to make Doug Banks-

"Ow!" he yelped as he looked at Charlie.

"Sorry, Dad," the young genius replied. "But your head wound needs to be cleaned."

"I'm fine, Charlie. I'm not the one being brutalized by-"

"I know," his son cut him off. "But you've got blood and glass covering half of your head. Please let me take care of _you_."

_Since we can't do a damn thing for Don,_ Alan added silently. "Okay," he relented. He looked at Don who hung unconscious in his bonds, thanks to another sedative Doug had seen fit to administer. "At least he's not in pain when he's not awake… I hope."

"Me, too," Charlie agreed as he tenderly cleaned his father's head with the hem of his tee shirt.

"He hit him so many times…"

"Thirty two." Alan raised an eyebrow and the young genius shrugged. "You know me and numbers. Besides, I really couldn't _not_ count, you know?"

"I know," the older man sighed. "What do you suppose he wants with us?"

"It doesn't seem to be _us_ that he's interested in. Well, no more than having an audience to watch him."

"But your brother barely knew Doug," Alan wondered aloud. "What could Don have possibly done to him that would make Doug hate him this much?"

"I wish I knew," the professor sighed, patting his father's shoulder to indicate he was finished. He wearily sat next to Alan and watched Don as he hung by his wrists. "We'd better figure it out, though. Don's tough, but…"

"I know, Charlie. I know."

Alan felt Charlie lean against him, a tremor running through his body. "Cold?"

"Yeah," the younger man replied.

Alan slipped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him close, rubbing his arm to generate heat.

"What about Don?" Charlie asked in a small voice. "He's wet and just hanging out in the open, and since Doug left the barn wide open, there's a cold draft out there."

"Like you said," Alan said as he held Charlie even closer. "Don's tough."

"Right."

The two men huddled together as they watched their loved one, trying to will him to stay warm in the freezing gloom of the night.

--

"I don't think there's anything here," Colby growled in frustration as he slammed the Murray file on the conference table. "I've been through everything – our reports, the AUSA's reports and the motions and evidence filed by the defense – and there's nothing there."

"Nothing that we can see," Megan said as her face brightened. "Something that only Charlie would see?"

"In case you haven't noticed," Colby said dryly, "Charlie's not here."

"Duh, Granger," she retorted as she rolled her eyes. "But we know someone else who 'speaks Charlie', don't we?"

"Larry," the agent said as he sagged in his chair. "Any reason you didn't think of this three hours ago?"

Megan ignored him as she flipped open her cell and called her friend. "Larry? Sorry to wake you." She paused for a moment as the physicist spoke. "Of course you weren't – I understand how you feel. Do you think you could come down here and look at some stuff for us? We're hoping there's a clue in there, but that only Charlie – and you – can understand."

Colby suppressed a yawn as he glanced at his watch – one-thirty in the morning. He started skimming the reports again as Megan wrapped up the conversation with Larry.

"Great," Megan said. "See you soon."

"I hope he can figure this out," Colby said as the other agent put away her phone.

"You've seen how they work together – if there's a clue there, he'll find it."

"Hey guys," David called as he stuck his head in the conference room. "Since the plate number came back reported stolen, I ran a query on all auto thefts within a ten block radius of that occurrence."

"Because our guy would have a comfort zone," Megan reasoned. "And?"

"Got a hit on a 1998 dark blue Econoline." He glanced at the printout in his hand. "Reported missing the same day as the plate."

"Coincidence?" Colby grinned.

"Right," Megan snorted. "You two get down there and see what you can turn up. I'll wait here for Larry and work this end."

"On it," Colby nodded.

"Hey," she stopped them. "Tread softly. If this is his comfort zone, there's a good chance he's holding the Eppes nearby. Don't want to spook him."

"We'll tread softly," David assured her.

To which Colby added, "But we'll also carry a big stick."

--

Doug rose bright and early the next morning, slipping from his warm bed and crossing to his bedroom window. He had a perfect view of the barn in the distance and smiled as he saw Don hanging where he'd left him last night.

_And judging by the light frost on the ground, he must have been miserable,_ Banks thought happily, a smile creeping onto his face as he grabbed a shower and then proceeded to the kitchen to make breakfast. As he skillfully maneuvered around the stove – his grandfather had believed a boy should know how to cook, too – he thought back to the point in his life where he'd finally thought he'd found happiness.

_He was twenty-five years old and fresh out of college – it having taken six years to earn his degree because he'd worked full time, too. He'd developed a passion for bike-riding during his school years, finding nothing in the world relieved his stress and made him feel freer than the sensation of racing through the open air. But due to a careless motorist, Doug had been hit while riding. He'd emerged from the accident unscathed but his bike had been trashed. And that's how he found himself standing in line at the bike shop, waiting to get an estimate to repair his pride and joy._

"_Wow," a young man whistled from behind him. "I hope you weren't on that…" He gestured and raised an eyebrow._

"_I was," Doug chuckled. "Lucky as can be that I didn't wind up as messed up as it did." He ran a finger along a vicious looking row of stitches on his right cheek. "This is the only injury I got that was even close to serious."_

"_I'd say you were very lucky, but I don't believe in luck."_

"_No?" Doug inquired, curious as to the way in which the young man carried himself and spoke._

"_I know," the curly haired man laughed softly. "People think I'm weird like that."_

"_Not weird," Doug replied. "I think it's very interesting."_

"_Now that's a first."_

_Smiling as the young man loosened up, he introduced himself. "Doug Banks."_

_The young man took the proffered hand and grinned. "Charles Eppes."_

"_Nice to meet you, Charles."_

"_Charlie," the young man corrected. "Everyone calls me Charlie."_

"_Charlie, I found one!"_

_The curly-haired man sighed and rolled his eyes. "Including my ever-so-helpful father." He gave a little shrug and waved. "Better go see what he's found."_

"_You're looking for a new bike?" Doug asked excitedly._

"_My first one. I need a way to get around campus and to my classes."_

"_College student, huh?" Doug smiled._

"_Professor, actually."_

"_No way! How old are you?"_

"_Twenty-four."_

"_Dang boy, that's impressive." Doug watched as a flicker of annoyance crossed the young man's face, only to disappear when he sensed Doug was being sincere._

"_Thanks," Charlie beamed._

"_Charlie Eppes, the boy professor." Doug set his bike down and nodded in the direction of his new friend's father. "So, Charlie-boy, I'm a bicycle whiz. What say I help you two get set up?"_

"_That'd be great," the professor nodded thankfully. "Just one thing."_

"_What's that?"_

"_I apologize for my father in advance."_

_Doug laughed a clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "I'm sure I'll love him."_

And he had – he'd loved them both. They'd become the family he'd been missing for so long and he'd discovered a happiness the likes of which he'd never known. Sure, Margaret had seemed a little distant, but he brushed it off because she wasn't 'one of the guys'.

It wasn't until much later that Don had come home… and Doug had lost the family he'd grown so attached to.

"But revenge is sweet," Doug spoke aloud in the empty house. "And it's finally mine."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Charlie and Alan sat in their prison and silently chanted for the sun to rise and bring with it the warmth that Don needed so badly. Neither of them had slept at all during the night, each one intent on peering through the gloom to make sure Don was still with them. As the morning sun sluggishly rose, they were able to see him hanging from the hook, a constant tremor coursing through his body.

"He's alive," Charlie said with relief.

"Thank God," Alan sighed. "Donny? Can you hear me, son?"

The agent wearily lifted his head, wincing as the movement sent waves of agony through his overtaxed muscles.

"Nice and slow, Donny. Don't put too much strain on your body."

Alan's heart soared as his son's bleary eyes slowly found their way to the stall. The feeling didn't last, though, as he saw the pain and exhaustion swirling in the brown orbs. "Oh, Donny," he breathed.

"Don?" Charlie finally found his voice.

The agent blinked at them and slowly shifted his weight to the balls of his feet to take the strain off of his abused shoulders. He moaned through the gag as he knee screamed in protest.

"Easy, Don," Charlie spoke compassionately, at a loss for what else to say.

"Donny? Look at me, son." He waited as the injured man slowly obeyed and gave him a warm smile of encouragement. "Listen to me very carefully."

Don nodded, quickly regretting the movement as his muscles threatened to cramp.

"We're chained up in here and can't get out." He waited for a sign of understanding to cross Don's face and was relieved it didn't take long. "See how the chain between your hands is looped through that hook?" Don slowly looked up and back to his father. "I know you can't get it off, but can you try twisting the hook?" At the baffled look on the agent's face, Alan took a deep breath and forced himself to remain patient and calm, despite the fact that Doug might appear any minute. "The hook is screwed into the overhead beam, Donny. Try unscrewing it."

Don stretched his fingers as far as they would go, but still didn't even come close to touching the old, rusty hook. He let his head sag back down to his chest in defeat.

"It's okay," Alan soothed. "Don't get upset."

"Don," Charlie called, smiling when his brother looked up. "Try twisting the chain until it tightens on the hook and then keep going."

Don shakily started turning himself in circles, looking up as the chain wound tighter and tighter. He reached the point where the chain couldn't go any further and paused to catch his breath as he held the awkward position.

"That's it," Charlie cheered. "Now just force it."

Don weakly strained against the chain, ignoring the sharp pain as the metal bit into his wrists and blood began trickling down his arms. After five minutes of straining with all his might, Don lost his footing. As his weight yanked on his arms, the chain began to unwind, sending Don into a sickening spin.

"Don!" Charlie called in alarm as he stretched as far as he could to his brother. "Don!"

The two men watched as Don managed to get his feet underneath him and slow the spinning until he came to a stop. His breathing was loud and harsh as he swayed unsteadily but managed to remain standing. The agent lifted his head enough to find Charlie and gave him a rueful look.

"It's okay," Charlie whispered softly. "You did your best. Try to rest while we think some more, okay?"

Don's eyes shifted to his father who nodded. "He's right, son. Just rest and let us work on a way out of here."

The injured man let his head sag back to his chest as he tried to ignore the fact that he'd just let his family down.

--

_What's this?_ Doug wondered to himself as he entered the barn. He was just in time to hear Charlie and Alan's soft voices as they soothed Don, promising to find a way out. _That's what you think,_ he silently growled as he strode forward toward the bound agent.

"Sleep well last night?" he inquired sarcastically, as he slammed a fist into the area over Don's kidney. He laughed as Don swayed and slipped, letting his weight crash down on his bound arms. As the agent sought to recover, Doug placed a well aimed kick directly on top of the knee he'd smashed with the gun the day before. Don grimaced in pain, but refused to cry out. "Tough guy, huh? We'll see about that soon enough."

Leaving the agent be, he approached the stall and pointed at the canteens. "Do you need a refill?" he asked as if he was a host serving his guests.

"Please," Charlie responded, not knowing how long Doug's hospitality night last. He slid the canteens to the door, watching as Doug retrieved and refilled them, humming happily as he did.

"Doug," Charlie whispered pleadingly. "Can Don have a drink?"

Banks was impressed by the young man's choice of words – he clearly didn't want Don to get soaked again. "You think he deserves one, do you?"

"He's a good man," Alan answered. "You never really got to know him."

"Whose fault is that?" Doug hissed as he hurled the canteens at the two men in the stall. A wicked smile lit up his face and he slowly looked back at Don. "I guess I could let you have a drink."

"Wait!" Charlie yelled in pure terror as he saw the look on his former friend's face. "What are you-"

"Speaking out of turn again, Charlie-boy? I thought a smart guy like you would learn faster." He removed Don's gag and slapped his cheek. "No need for this any more – I want to hear you scream."

"Not gonna happen," Don croaked defiantly.

"We'll see," his captor sneered. He walked to the tap and hooked up a hose, switching the water on and returning to the injured man's side. He seized Don's jaw in an iron grip, his fingers digging in to hold his mouth open. "Charlie says you need a drink," he whispered to the wide eyed agent. "Bottoms up."

He shoved the hose into Don's mouth and patiently watched as the agent began choking and coughing on the water.

"Stop it!" Charlie yelled in anger.

"You'll kill him!" Alan joined in.

"Make up your mind, Charlie-boy," Doug laughed as Don started to lose the battle for oxygen, his struggles growing weaker and weaker.

"Please, Doug," Charlie begged tearfully. "Why are you doing this?"

Banks looked at Charlie and saw the despair in his face. He pulled the hose from Don's mouth and shoved the agent away so he could focus on his other captives. "Don't cry, Charlie-boy. This is all for the best – you'll see."

The professor nodded in a daze but his eyes were glued to Don as he tried to will the other man to breathe more easily. Doug sighed as he realized both of his other captives were still solely focused on Don.

"You'll see," he whispered again as he moved back to the workbench. Picking up an old hat, he returned to the stall and spun it reverently in his hands. "This was Grandfather's hat. He got it down in New Mexico when he went on vacation. He loved how it looked so fancy. Said the hatband with these jade cabochons was what did it." Doug slid the hatband off and tossed the hat to the side. "He showed me another use for it, too." Banks began wrapping the object around his hands as he eyed Don who had finally gotten his breathing under control. "Ready, Don?" he asked as he leaned close to the agent, their noses almost touching. "I bet I can make you holler now."

"Doug," Alan and Charlie both pleaded.

But Banks was already in his own little world – it was just him and Don and all of the anger that had been festering for six long years. He pulled back his fist before driving it into Don's abdomen. Before the agent could recover, his captor moved behind him and slammed his fist into Don's kidneys again. He continued at a measured pace, enjoying the feeling of hatred as it flowed in his veins. Doug realized Don had yet to make a sound and upped the intensity of the blows in an attempt to break the agent's spirit.

After thirty minutes Don was still silent and Banks was panting from exertion. He threw the hatband down in disgust and poked at a large bruise on Don's abdomen. "You _will_ cry out before I'm done with you," he hissed. "That's a promise."

He spun on his heel and stormed from the barn, leaving the three Eppes alone to contemplate their fate.

--

"I fail to see anything of significance in this case," Larry sighed as he covered his face. "I doubt Charles meant for there to be a connection."

"Thanks, Larry," Megan said. "I know you stayed here all night to help."

"It was either not sleep at my office or not sleep here," he said as he tapped his chin with his fingers. "At least here I could pretend I was contributing to the effort to locate the Eppes."

"You _did_ contribute," Megan assured him. "Now we know there isn't a connection to Murray."

"I fail to see how that is a relevant contribution."

"Eliminating a suspect or lead can be just as important as finding one," she told him. Her cell shrilled and she patted Larry on the shoulder before answering. "Reeves."

"We talked to the guy who reported the Econoline stolen," Colby stated. "You're not going to believe this, but he lives in a high end, gated community."

"And drives a '98 van?"

"His son paints houses for part time work and he lets him keep the van at home."

"Gated community?" Megan sat up in her chair. "They have cameras at the entrances?"

"They do indeed," Colby answered. "We've checked the sign in logs with the security guard for the night the van was stolen, but there were no guests that night. They're getting us the video tapes. We can at least get a glimpse of the guy leaving."

"That's great," Megan responded. "Get the footage up here and then run a background check on the van. I'm thinking there's some reason he risked stealing this vehicle from such a high profile neighborhood."

"You got it."

She flipped the phone shut and smiled at Larry. "I think we're about to get a picture of this guy."

"From a surveillance camera?" the physicist inquired.

"Yep."

"Do you still have the enhancing software Charlie used before?"

"We sure do," Megan grinned.

"Would you mind if I started setting up while we wait for its arrival?" Larry hopefully inquired.

"I thought you'd never ask."

--

"Don?" Alan called softly. "Come on, Donny, look at me."

Don's head lolled on his chest as he hung from his restraints.

"Donny," Alan called again with a sense of urgency.

"Tired," Don finally spoke, his voice weak and raspy.

"I know," Alan soothed. "How are you doing? Doug's not here now – be honest with me."

"Ache all over."

"How's your breathing? Are you getting enough air?"

"Enough, yes."

"How are your arms doing?"

Don remained silent, but did try to support his weight with his feet. He only lasted about a minute before his knees gave out and his arms were again forced to support his whole body.

"Just focus on breathing, Donny. You do that, and Charlie and I will do the rest, okay?"

"'Kay."

Alan turned to look at his younger son, who was still watching Don. "How are you holding up, Charlie?"

"I… I'm terrified, to be honest."

"The good news is that Doug doesn't seem to be in a hurry to…" Alan waved his hand as he carefully avoided the word 'kill'.

"Goody," Charlie snapped. "So we can just keep watching him being tortured."

"What I mean is that we can work on a way out of here." Alan turned Charlie's face towards him and held his gaze. "Right?"

"Unless you've got a key or some bolt cutters I don't know about, we're screwed."

"_Think_, Charlie. We have to think our way out of this one."

"Like how?"

"Well, why is Doug focusing on hurting Don and not us? He's actually shown a small amount of compassion to us – why?"

"He used to be close to us a long time ago," Charlie thought aloud. "Very close before Mom got sick."

"Then what happened?"

"Then Don came home."

"Right," Alan nodded. "And didn't Doug used to sometimes sleep in Don's old room?"

"Yes he did," Charlie nodded, suddenly seeing where his father was going. "But when Don came back from New Mexico he had to stay in his old room for a couple of weeks while he found an apartment."

"So Doug was left out in the cold," Alan concluded.

Charlie started to speak, but fell silent as they heard their captor returning. Alan draped an arm around his youngest son and held him tight as Doug proceeded to douse Don with a bucket of cold water again. Banks walked to the stall and opened the door, sliding a plate containing two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches across the floor.

"Eat up," he ordered. Looking at Charlie, he sneered, "Don't ask about Don, because you won't like the answer."

The professor nodded as he grabbed a sandwich and forced himself to take a bite. Although he had no appetite whatsoever, Alan did the same, knowing they would need their strength to get Don out of the situation before Doug could do anything more permanent to him.

"Slide the plate back," Banks commanded, picking it up after Charlie obeyed. "I'll be back in the morning." As he left, he walked by Don and slapped his cheek hard enough to leave a handprint behind. "Sleep tight, Don."

Alan glared at Doug's back as he left the barn, but quickly cleared his mind and studied his oldest son. His heart broke as he saw and heard the agent's teeth chattering from the cold.

"Hang in there, Donny."

"F-funny," the agent tried to joke.

"God, Donny, I didn't mean it like that," Alan said ruefully, though he did appreciate Don's attempt at levity. "Just rest and think warm thoughts."

"…T-try," Don whispered. "K-keep… talking?"

"Of course," Alan promised, although his mind went blank.

He glanced at Charlie who sighed and shrugged, "Cognitive Emergence Theory, anyone?"

A ghost of a smile flickered across Don's pain filled features and Alan leaned back against the wall, relieved that Charlie had risen to the occasion. "Sounds great."

"Okay," Charlie nodded. He took a deep breath and began a long monologue about his research, making sure to keep his voice as soothing as possible.

Alan watched as Don's trembling eased in response to his brother's voice and decided that he could benefit from it, too. He let his eyes slide shut and focused on Charlie's hypnotic tone as it gently undulated up and down the register in an attempt to keep Don's thoughts off of his injured state. Before he knew it, Alan was carried away on Charlie's voice into a much needed sleep.

--

"Well, he's not a complete idiot," Megan sighed as she stared at the enhanced photo of the van and the man driving it. The thief might have broken into a gated community, but he had prepared for the trip past the security cameras. "Baseball cap pulled low, hooded sweatshirt… Not much to help us ID him."

"I believe there is one more detail that might be of use," Larry mumbled as his fingers tapped on the keyboard. Within seconds he had enlarged the uncovered area of the man's face and sharpened the resolution to the point that it was very pixilated, but still viewable. "Look at his right cheek."

Megan obeyed, leaning close and squinting. "What is that? Scar, tattoo, birthmark?"

"I would guess scar," Larry offered as he peered at the screen.

"I don't suppose you have any more enhancing magic up your sleeve?" Megan inquired.

"Unfortunately not." The physicist buried his face in his hands. "I wish I could do something more."

Megan patted him gently on the shoulder as she pulled out her cell. "You've done plenty. If you'll excuse me, I want to check in with Colby." At Larry's nod, she left him in the conference room and headed to the bullpen. "Find anything yet?" she asked as she perched on Colby's desk.

"We've compiled a list of everyone who has ever had the van registered in their name," he told her. "I pulled their DMV photos to run against the image enhancement Larry's working on."

"Yeah, well our guy knew about the cameras and dressed appropriately," Megan stated. "Not a whole lot to go on, image-wise."

"Damn," Colby muttered. "Well, for what it's worth, here they are." His fingers flew across the keyboard and four photos appeared. "We're running background checks on-"

"This is our guy," she cut him off as one image jumped out at her. Tapping the screen, she grinned. "Our van thief has the same scar on his right cheek."

"You're kidding?" Colby asked in shock. "That's one heck of a break we just caught."

"And one that we desperately needed." She looked over her shoulder toward the conference room and the defeated-looking professor seated inside. "Run a background on this Douglas Michael Banks."

"What are you going to do?"

"Go put a smile on Larry's face," she said.

"In the middle of the conference room?" Colby snickered.

But Megan was already on her way, too excited to even acknowledge his snark.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Doug woke up early the next morning, and – after peeking through his window and finding Don still strung up in the barn – he'd gone into the dining room to enjoy his breakfast. While waiting for his food to cool, he leaned back in his chair and thought back to how his quest for revenge had started just a little over a year ago.

_Doug wearily knocked on the door to his grandfather's house and leaned against the doorjamb as he waited for his relative to answer. The ancient door creaked open to reveal an elderly, white-haired man wearing a sour expression._

"_This here's private property," the old man snapped. "How in the hell did you get up here anyway?"_

"_It's me, Grandfather," the younger man replied. "It's Doug."_

"_I know that, boy," the old man hissed. "I ain't senile."_

"_I didn't mean to imply-"_

"_Like I said, this is private property. I don't remember inviting you up here." _

"_No," Doug shook his head. "I suppose that's true. But Grandfather, I've had a run of bad luck lately. I was hoping-"_

"_That I'd let the likes of you come up here and mooch off of me?"_

_The young man stared at his elder in disbelief. "No, of course not. I mean to work for my keep, if you'll have me. I just… I met this family and really started to fit in, but then-"_

"_Don't give me any sob story," the eldest Banks cut him off. "I told you when you were twelve that I didn't intend to take care of you."_

"_But you said that was because-"_

"_I said what I meant. I don't know what that fool social worker told you and I don't care."_

"_I see," Doug whispered. "But like you told me – family is the most important thing a man can have. I've lost two now, Grandfather. I need you to let me in – let me get back on my feet." Seeing the cold, hard stare on the other man's face, he added, "Please, Grandfather."_

"_I said no. Now get off my property."_

_He never would have been able to fully describe what had happened – what had come over him – but Doug suddenly found his hands around the old man's throat, pushing him inside the house and against the wall. He no longer saw his grandfather's face as the old man gasped for air, but only the images of the families that he'd lost. He saw Charlie and Alan as they smiled at him over dinner; he and Charlie as they rode their bikes together; he and Alan as they planned a birthday dinner for Charlie. Doug shook his head to clear the images and was shocked to find himself staring down at the old man's lifeless body._

_Gasping and stumbling backwards in shock, Doug sat on the front step and stared in horror at what he'd just done._

"_I killed him," he whispered aloud. "I killed him, I killed him, I killed him…" Doug began nervously rocking back and forth as the minutes ticked by and turned into hours. Later on – just as the sun was sinking low in the sky – Doug realized that killing his Grandfather wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Glaring at the body lying inside the doorway, he said, "You deserved it. You turned your back on family. Family is important. Yeah, I did the right thing."_

_He stifled a sudden yawn as he rose to his feet and entered the house, closing and locking the door behind him. Glancing down at the dead man, it occurred to him that nobody knew he was here. He could stay as long as he wanted and no one would ever know._

Doug's watch chimed, jarring him from his memories. He checked the time and quickly gobbled down his breakfast before stepping outside into the cold morning air. A smile lit up the young man's face as he eyed the dark blue van parked in the driveway. Sure, it had been a risk to steal that particular van, but it was very important that he have it if things were going to work out right.

_Doug stared glumly at the barren walls of his small apartment. He'd never seen the point in decorating his home because he rarely spent any time here. He was usually with the Eppes – Charlie or Alan – during the day and just crashed in his apartment at night. Although he'd even started spending a couple of nights a week at their house in Alan's oldest son's childhood bedroom._

_But all of that was over now. Margaret had gotten sick a couple of weeks earlier, and Alan and Charlie had become so wrapped up in that tragedy that Doug was basically left on his own. He thought he'd handled it well, telling them he'd keep an eye on the house for them and acting like he cared what happened to the Eppes woman. Yes, he'd been doing great, until a couple of days ago when he went over to check on things and found his stuff packed into two cardboard boxes waiting by the front door. He hadn't even had time to process that before Don had appeared from the kitchen and given him a long look._

"_Sorry about the boxes," he'd said to Doug, though there was very little remorse in his voice. "I'm home to be with my family and I need a place to stay for a couple of weeks. Dad said I could pack your stuff up and see what you wanted to do with it. I'd keep it in the room somewhere, but I brought a lot of things with me."_

"_You didn't break anything, did you?" Doug had demanded, hating the childish tone to his voice but unable to stop it._

"_No," Don said evenly. "I was very careful." He studied his family's odd friend in silence until Doug shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "You know, maybe you should move those boxes back to your place for a while."_

"_You're kicking me out?" he'd angrily demanded._

"_I'm home now. I can look after my family and our house. I appreciate all you've done for them, but I think we need some private time to deal with my mother's illness."_

"_Sure," Doug had said, forcing a smile to his face. He'd hurriedly grabbed his boxes and fled the house, all sorts of hateful thoughts about Don running through his head._

_He wasn't to be gotten rid of that easily, though, and had tried to visit Alan at the hospital the next day. His hopes had been dashed as the staff told him 'family only' in the ICU, and he'd been forced to try Alan's cell, leaving two messages that the older man never returned. In a panic, Doug rushed to CalSci and barged into Charlie's office, relieved to find his friend there, furiously scribbling on a chalkboard. As he'd started speaking to him, Charlie had insisted he was too busy for idle chatter and to please leave him alone. Feeling dejected and alone, the young man had returned to his apartment and collapsed onto his bed._

_He stared at his meager belongings, frowning as he realized he wasn't really worth much without the Eppes. **They were my family,**_ _he thought sadly._ **_And they don't want me any more._**

_Doug made a sudden decision, leaping from his bed and hastily packing his furnishings. He borrowed his neighbor's car, taking all of his stuff – minus the two cardboard boxes – to a nearby pawn shop. Once he'd gotten all the cash he could, he made a beeline to a used car lot. There was one vehicle within his price range so he slapped his money on the counter and – within minutes – he was holding the keys to the used 1998 Econoline van._

_Driving home, Doug kept telling himself this was the only way to go. He had to leave the family that had already abandoned him and go somewhere far away to start over. Banks made one quick stop by his landlord's residence, the old woman smiling and letting him out of his lease because he was 'such a pleasant young man', before grabbing his boxes and sliding them into the van. He climbed into the driver's seat and started his journey. He had no idea where he was going, but didn't care, as long as it was away from the Eppes family._

Doug smiled to himself as he ran his hand over the old van, reliving the memories as if they were yesterday. Once he'd figured out that Don was responsible for ruining his family, he'd known right away that the old van would play a very important role in his plans.

_Yes,_ he thought to himself. _The van that once carried me away from my family has now carried them back to me. Once I get rid of Don – and Charlie and Alan feel the pain of loss like I did – they'll understand. Then we can be a family again._

Lovingly patting the vehicle, Banks smiled and made his way to the barn, eager to spend some quality time with his favorite family.

--

Don's entire body hurt. His arms and shoulders were numb and senseless, but still managed to throb with a bone-deep ache. His chest and back stung from the numerous welts that that covered them and itched as the occasional trickle of blood seeped from a deep gash. His right knee was screaming at him non-stop and he had long since given up on trying to support any weight on that leg. He was cold and miserable and horrified that his family was seeing him like this. Though Don would never admit it, he hated that they were unable to touch him and offer comfort – knowing he could last as long as he needed to just from their support. So last night he'd made himself concentrate on their voices instead and tried to forget that he was in complete agony.

His father had quickly fallen asleep and Charlie – despite his best efforts – had trailed off a few hours later. Don had hung in silence, content to let his family get the rest they needed so badly. He'd even almost managed to doze off once or twice, but then his weight would shift and ignite a fireball of pain in some part of his body, jolting him awake and leaving him panting for air. With nothing better to do, Don had thought about their situation – about Doug and what he wanted with all three of them.

"_Mom," he whispered into his phone. "How are you doing?"_

"_Okay," she responded weakly. "I'm looking forward to seeing you, Donny. When do you get here?"_

"_Late tomorrow night. I'll be at the hospital first thing the next morning."_

"_Good," she said happily. "I miss you." She remained silent, and Don sensed she wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how to go about it._

"_What?" he gently prodded._

"_When you get here… Well, do you remember Doug?"_

"_That guy Charlie's friends with? Yeah, I met him at Thanksgiving dinner a couple of years ago, right?"_

"_That's him. He's been growing very close to your brother and father."_

"_Charlie's always needed friends," Don stated, keeping his voice neutral even though he remembered the uneasy feeling he'd had about Doug._

"_I know, but this young man… I caught him talking to a photo one day."_

"_What?" Don asked in shock._

"_It was a family photo of us – the four of us – and he was… I mean, I think he was talking to Charlie and Alan. He… He told them that they were the perfect family. That you and I weren't necessary for them to be happy."_

"_What?"_

"_I know, and I didn't have the heart to tell Charlie. He does like Doug so much – your father does, too."_

"_But Mom-"_

"_No, I could have been wrong and I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. But now that I'm here and you're coming home… I told your father that you needed to stay at the house for a couple of weeks while you get settled."_

"_You know the Bureau pays for a place while I find one of my own."_

"_I know, Donny, but I'm asking you to stay at home for me. Doug has offered to keep an eye on things there while we're spending so much time at the hospital and I'm not comfortable with that. I asked your father to tell Doug to clear out for a while because you need to stay there. Will you please do that for me?"_

"_Of course, Mom."_

"_I've also asked my doctor not to let him visit – to keep it as family only."_

"_If he bothers you that badly, I can have a talk with him," Don offered._

"_No," she quickly answered. "In case I'm overreacting or something I don't want to ruin it for your brother later on."_

_Don assured her that he understood and the two said their goodbyes. Two days later, Don had met Doug at the house and suggested he move his stuff out. He'd gotten a bad vibe from Charlie's friend, but since he'd promised his mother, he hadn't pursued it._

And now – because he'd let it go – he and his father and brother were in this mess. "Shouldn't have listened to you, Mom," Don regretfully mused.

"Don?" Charlie called. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah, Buddy," Don whispered, realizing that he just spoken aloud to their mother. "I was kind of daydreaming."

"Okay," the younger man sighed with relief. "You had me worried for a minute."

"How do you feel?" Alan joined in.

"Same as before."

"We're going to get out of here, Donny," Alan stated firmly. "You just have to trust your brother and me."

"I do," Don assured him as he wearily lifted his head to find the two men smiling at him in encouragement. He held their gazes and smiled back, letting them know that they did have his complete trust.

"We've been talking," Charlie whispered, barely loud enough for Don to hear. "And we think we know what he wants."

Don snorted. "Besides me?"

"Geez, Don," Charlie snapped. "Save your strength and just listen, okay?"

"Go ahead."

"We think he wants us – what he considers his old family – back."

"Yeah," Alan agreed. "And we think he must blame you for coming between us. You know, when you came home and he kind of got pushed aside?"

"Right," Don said.

"I'm not entirely sure what the point of us watching him do this… stuff… to you is," Charlie choked out. "But at least we think we know his ultimate goal."

"How does that get us out of this?" Don inquired.

"We're still working on that," Alan sighed. "But it's a start."

The three men heard the sound of the van pulling into the barn, followed by Doug's footsteps as he approached the three Eppes. Don let his head sink back to his chest and steeled himself for more pain.

"We're here, Donny," Alan quietly reminded him. "You're not alone. Remember that."

"Good morning!" Doug's voice boomed behind Don. "Sleep well?" The words were accompanied by a fist into his ribs, but Don had been expecting the strike and didn't move. "Catching on quick, huh?"

The agent ignored his tormentor as he focused on taking nice even breaths and preparing himself for whatever torture Doug was about to inflict.

"So, Grandfather had one more thing he liked to do to me," his captor spoke casually as he wondered over to the workbench of horrors. "He was a firm believer in discipline, that's for sure."

Don had a chill race down his spine as he sensed Doug standing right behind him. He fought the urge to lift his head and try to look over his shoulder, refusing to give his captor any satisfaction.

"So, this one hurt the worst," Doug lectured his victims. He patted Don on the shoulder in parody of a comforting gesture and predicted, "I think you'll cry out this time."

"Give it your best shot," Don hissed, picturing the scolding looks his father and brother were probably giving him right then.

"Don't mind if I do," Doug leaned close and whispered.

There was a low whistling sound as something rushed through the air, followed by an intense blow across the back of his thighs. The agent involuntarily arched forward away from the pain, only to set his aching body to swaying from where he hung. Doug's laughter rang out as another blow landed on the back of Don's calves, his body again jerking in the restraints. As he gasped for air, a thick rubber hose appeared in front of his face, along with Doug's grinning countenance.

"Told you it hurts," he sneered, bringing his arm back for another strike.

Don closed his eyes in anticipation but nothing could prepare him for the agony that surged through his body as the hose crashed down on top of his battered right knee. He knew his veins were likely to pop from the strain, but the agent did manage to remain silent. Doug's growl of anger actually made the corners of his mouth twitch upward in a small smile of victory. It was short lived, however, as the blows began raining down harder and faster with no end in sight.

The last thought Don had before succumbing to the darkness creeping up from the periphery was that he hadn't heard his father or Charlie call out to him even once.

--

Alan kept his features schooled in a disinterested expression as he refrained from looking at his oldest son. It killed him inside, but if he and Charlie were right this might be the best path to take if they were all going to make it through the ordeal alive. He glanced at his youngest son, pleased to see Charlie was copying his actions and not watching Don as Doug beat him. The older man stealthily placed a hand over Charlie's, giving it a brief squeeze before placing back in his lap.

Don was still not crying out under Doug's vicious assault and Alan was grateful because he was almost positive he wouldn't be able to keep looking away if Don did let a sound slip out. It was hard enough as it was having to listen to the whistling of the hose followed by the muffled thud as it continued striking his oldest son's defenseless body. A particularly loud thud followed by Doug's frustrated growl drew Alan's attention and he slid his gaze to the two men in front of him. Doug wasn't looking at him, but was instead focused entirely on Don as he lined up a blow to again land across the agent's bad knee. As the hose sliced through the air, the oldest Eppes found that he couldn't tear his gaze away and winced in sympathy as the hose connected with Don's injured joint. His son jerked in pain, his restraints rattling as he tried to twist away from his tormentor. The sound drew Alan's attention and his jaw nearly dropped open as he realized the hook that Don was hanging from had just twisted.

He quickly looked away again, not wanting Doug to see him and catch on that something might be amiss. Alan prayed that their captor would soon leave them alone before he realized that a small opportunity for escape had just presented itself. But the sounds of the beating continued and Alan wracked his brain for any kind of distraction. He felt warmth covering his hand and looked down to see Charlie's hand on his. The professor gave a light squeeze which was all Alan needed to ground himself again. He smiled thankfully to the young genius and then closed his eyes, imagining how wonderful it was going to feel when they escaped and he could hold his son and take his pain away.

"You stubborn pig!"

Alan opened his eyes just in time to see Doug hurl the hose away from him in anger. Their captor grabbed Don's jaw and stared him in the eye, mumbling something so low that Alan couldn't make out the words. Doug shoved Don's head in disgust before storming out of the barn. Once he was certain Banks was gone for the time being, Alan rose up on his knees and leaned as close to Don as he could.

"Donny! Donny, you have to open your eyes for me!"

The agent remained motionless, hanging limply from his bonds.

"Donny!"

"Dad," Charlie quietly whispered. "He needs to rest."

"The hook," Alan said. "It twisted when Doug..." Alan choked on the last word, and angrily gestured at the overhead beam. "It's loose."

"Loose?" Charlie repeated hopefully.

"Yes!" Alan yelled in frustration. "He should be able to get it unscrewed now, but we have to wake him up."

Charlie nodded and copied his father's position. "Don!"

"Donny!"

"What?" Don finally answered, his voice tired and hoarse.

"I know you hurt, son," Alan soothed. "But you have to try this one more time."

"What?"

"The hook, Don," Charlie told him. "It's loose. You can get it out now."

"Tried already."

"I know, Donny, but you have to try again."

"Can't stand," Don said in a voice filled with frustration and despair. "Legs are done."

"Donny," Alan spoke slowly and firmly. "I know you, son. I know what you're made of. You can do this."

"Please, Don. You have to try." Charlie glanced at his father as a look of guilt came over his face. "It may be the only way you can get us out of here. Otherwise, who knows what he'll do to us when he's done with you."

"That's low, Charlie," Don grumbled, although he did painfully shift his weight onto his good leg.

"Whatever works," the young genius whispered.

"Easy, Donny. Nice and slow… try to stay steady." Alan held his breath as Don slowly began twisting the chain of shackles until it tightened on the hook. "That's it… doing good. A little more. Deep breaths." Alan kept saying every comforting, reassuring, encouraging phrase he could think of in an attempt to keep his oldest son going.

"Doing great, bro."

The two men held their breath as Don made the first attempt at moving the hook, both men letting out a sigh of relief as it moved.

"You've got it!" Alan yelled. "Keep going!"

Don didn't acknowledge his family but kept concentrating on the task at hand. After an eternity, he gave the chain a final twist and crashed to the ground as the hook slipped from the overhead beam. Alan could only watch in horror as his son fell, landing heavily and sending the air rushing from his lungs. As Don ineffectually gasped for breath, Alan began to wonder if they hadn't just put themselves into a worse situation.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

"Got it!" Colby exclaimed as he burst into the conference room where Megan, David, and Larry waited. "Here's the background check on Douglas Michael Banks. He's got a record, but nothing major. He did a few months for petty theft, and then just dropped off the map."

"Doug Banks?" Larry inquired suddenly.

"That's right," Megan answered. "We're pretty sure he's the man who stole the van." Seeing the shocked look on the physicist's face, she asked, "Wait, you _know_ him?"

"Not well, I'm afraid," he sighed and clasped his hands together. "Charles, on the other hand…"

"He knows Charlie?" David asked.

"They used to be good friends," Larry stated. "Alan, too, I believe. But that was several years ago. I believe the last time I remember seeing Charles with him, or even mentioning him, was shortly after Margaret became ill."

"So he comes back years later to do what?" Colby asked.

"We'll figure that out as we go," Megan advised him. "For now, do we have an address on file for him?"

"A halfway house he moved into following his release from prison, but he hasn't lived there in almost two years." Colby flipped the page and read from another report. "I did a check on family, etcetera. Turns out his parents died when he was twelve, so he was carted off to the foster system." Colby frowned as he tapped the folder in his hands. "Odd thing is that he had a grandparent – Howard Banks – that was still alive, but refused to take him in."

"Now _that_ is an interesting fact," Megan mused. "Is the old man still alive?"

"Yes, but you don't really think he'd go there, do you?" Colby asked doubtfully. "It's obvious Banks didn't want him."

"Think about it, though," Megan insisted. "You've done time and gotten out and you're forced to take up residence at a halfway house, right?" At her colleagues' nods, she continued. "So maybe he feels like he needs to start over – put all of his bad luck behind him. What better way to do that than to revisit the only family you have left?"

"So we should give the old man a call," David nodded.

"That's not going to happen," Colby said.

"What do you mean?" Megan demanded.

"Howard Banks has never owned a phone in his life," Colby told her. "Apparently, he lives on one thousand acres of undeveloped wilderness in the mountains in the Lake Elsinore-Murrieta area and has never kept ties to civilization."

"Perfect place to hide out with three hostages," David sighed.

"Right," Megan nodded as she flipped open her cell. "I'm going to get a couple of teams together and get our transportation down there arranged. You two call the locals and let them know we're on the way."

--

"Don!" Charlie called desperately. "Don, look at me!"

His weary brother managed to lift his head, meeting the professor's eyes with a bleary gaze. Don had finally gotten his breathing under control, but was obviously too drained to do much of anything else.

"That's it," Charlie soothed. "Can you come here?"

"Legs," Don breathed.

"I know, but can you crawl?"

"Arms… numb."

"Come on, Donny," Alan whispered. "You can do it. I know it hurts, but we need you to come over here."

"..Try." The agent gritted his teeth and used his good knee to push himself forward by about an inch before resting his head on the dirt floor and panting against the aches assaulting his entire body.

"That's good, bro," Charlie encouraged him as his heart broke at Don's pain. "Nice and slow." Leaning over until he was against his father's ear, Charlie whispered, "What do we do when he gets here? Even if he manages to stand up and get the door open, we're still cuffed to this ring."

"I know," Alan replied, keeping his voice low so the wounded man couldn't overhear him. "But at this point all we can do is wing it. Besides, I want a closer look at Don so I can see how bad of shape he's in."

"Right."

They returned their attention to Don as he agonizingly inched forward at a snail's pace. Charlie and Alan began offering words of encouragement again, each man taking a turn so that Don constantly had a voice urging him on. Seconds turned into minutes and Charlie's heart pounded as he worried that Doug might return at any moment.

"Come on, Don," the professor crooned with a sense of urgency in the words. "You can do it. Just a little further."

"Need… rest," Don mumbled as he laid his head on the floor again.

"No, Donny," Alan barked sharply. "I know you hurt, but you have to keep going."

"Can't," Don protested, his voice almost breaking on the word.

"Yes, you can!" Charlie shot back. "Suck it up, Fed!"

Don lifted his head and gave his brother a confused look, before turning up the corner of his mouth. "Pay for… that one." He slowly began pushing himself forward along the dirt, his eyes never leaving his little brother's.

"Only if you get your butt over here!" Charlie taunted, relieved to no end that Don seemed to have a renewed determination.

"That's it," Alan urged, smiling thankfully at his youngest son. "Good job," he added in a whisper as he patted Charlie's shoulder.

"I didn't know what else to do," the young man admitted. "It does seem to have worked, though."

"Let's just hope…" Alan trailed off as they heard an all too familiar sound.

"He's back," Charlie sighed in despair. "Don!"

"Heard," Don said as he collapsed onto the floor. "Sorry… So sorry."

"Not your fault," Charlie soothed quietly. He glanced at his father who nodded sadly. Hesitantly, Charlie whispered just loud enough for his brother to hear, "We've got a plan, Don. But you have to trust us."

"…Do."

Charlie mutely nodded and closed his eyes, clearing his mind and dredging up the best poker face he could manage. Once he was set, he opened his eyes and glared at Don, perfectly mirroring his father's expression.

--

Doug happily hummed as he hopped out of his cherished van and ambled into the barn. He didn't really have any quality time planned, but he figured he'd play it by ear – maybe talk with Charlie and Alan and see if they finally understood what they had done to him four years ago. Doug stopped by his workbench and filled up a bucket of water, knowing that his family had probably drained theirs by now. He cursed himself for forgetting their food, but he'd make up for it at breakfast tomorrow by bringing them something really nice.

Easily lifting the heavy container, Doug walked to the stall, and froze in his tracks at what he found.

_He got down?_ Doug wondered to himself. _But… but I tested that hook a million times! That's not possible!_

Banks angrily stormed toward Don's crumpled form, haphazardly setting the bucket down to grab an old fence rail.

"How did you get down?" he roared, advancing on the agent and angrily brandishing the old wood in his hand.

Don weakly looked up at the sound of Doug's voice, his eyes widening at the sight of the madman and his weapon.

"You always ruin _everything_," Doug growled as he brought the rail above his head. "And now you're going to pay for it!" Banks brought the piece of wood arcing down, smiling when it hit Don's shoulder with a loud thump. He lifted it again and smashed it down over Don's kidneys, frowning when the agent curled into a fetal position. "Take it like a man!" he yelled as he swung the wood into Don's back and shoulders again and again, his anger growing as Don remained silent.

"You think you're better than me?" he challenged as he swung again. "You think they're _your_ family?" Another blow. "You left them!" The next hit was so strong that the old wooden rail splintered into several pieces. Doug dropped the small part he was holding and glared down at the still form beneath him, panting as rage boiled in his veins. He looked up and was surprised to see Charlie and Alan leaning against the stall with their eyes closed, apparently dozing.

_Maybe they do understand now,_ he thought happily. _Maybe they know…_

He bent down and grabbed Don's shackles, yanking his arms over his head. "You see that?" he hissed triumphantly. "They don't care."

The barely conscious agent let his gaze drift to the stall and back to Doug. "No…"

"Yes," Doug smiled ruthlessly. "They know what you are now. You abandoned them for all of those years and they finally get it."

"Crazy," Don whispered, flinching as Banks gripped his throat and squeezed tightly. He vainly tried to suck in a breath, but his captor was cutting off his airway.

"I'm not crazy," the madman hissed. "I'm right. And my family – not your family, _mine_ – knows it now." He let go of the agent's neck, smiling as the injured man loudly wheezed. "They don't want you any more, Don, and I'll prove it."

Banks grabbed the chain between the agent's wrists and dragged him into the stall, shoving him to lie against the opposite wall from his family. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled as Charlie's eyes cracked open but drifted closed again as he shifted to turn his back on his older brother. Banks looked back down at his victim and smiled. "See? Charlie-boy knows. You think about that tonight while you're over here freezing in the cold." He stood and gave Don a hard kick in the ribs before slipping out of the stall and returning to his van.

_My family's back,_ he grinned happily. _They understand the pain I went through and that they never should have let Don back into their lives. I'll let him suffer tonight as they ignore him and he can think about how he left them. Tomorrow morning they'll come home with me and Don Eppes will be dead to us all._

He put the van in gear and pulled away from the barn, leaving the occupants alone in the dark of night.

--

Megan slid from the SUV and climbed the steps to the darkened Sheriff's office, Colby and David trailing right behind her. As she raised a fist to knock the front door opened and revealed a very tired-looking man wearing a uniform. "Sheriff Moulton?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered. "Come on in." He stepped aside and motioned the three agents through the door, frowning as he peered out into the empty street. "I thought there were going to be more of you?"

"The second team will be up here by early morning," Megan said as she took in the sheriff's rumpled appearance. "They were sleeping, too."

"Well, let's go back to my office," Moulton said as he led the threesome further into the building. "I've got some maps that show his property lines. You _do_ know that no one knows where his actual home is, right?"

"What do you mean?" David asked doubtfully. "Someone has to know where it is."

"No one," Moulton assured him.

"Meter readers?" Colby suggested.

"For what? Agents, Howard Banks does not believe in technology – he uses well water, has no phone and doesn't even have electricity. He is completely off the grid."

"What about the contractor who built his house?" David inquired.

"Howard Banks built his house with his son – Doug's father. Those three men and Doug's mother are the only people who knew or know where on the property the residence is."

"Great," Colby sighed in frustration. "And it's really a thousand acres?"

"More like eleven hundred," the sheriff corrected.

"What if we had a small craft fly overhead and scout it out for us?" Megan suggested.

"That might spook Banks," Colby quickly pointed out. "He might cut his losses and run."

"Good point," Megan sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "You have enough volunteers that we can walk some kind of search grid?"

"I can get you about five men," Moulton said. "That's about it for going up to the Banks place. Most people around here just don't want to fool with the old man."

"Maps," Megan said, her face suddenly growing brighter. "Sheriff, can you get me every kind of map of the area that you have – topological, water tables, weather, anything?"

"Sure," he nodded. "They're over at the library and I think I can get Doris to come open it up for us."

"Great," Megan beamed. "Have her fax copies to this number." She scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to the sheriff.

"Larry," David grinned.

"Right," Colby nodded. "He's almost as good as Charlie."

"Better," Megan confidently stated. At her friends' doubtful looks, she admitted, "Okay, so I may be a little biased, but I bet he can narrow down the search area in no time."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Don was drifting in and out of consciousness as he shivered in the bitter cold. All he could think of was Doug's words and how they couldn't possibly be true – he'd never abandoned his family… had he? Sure, he'd gone off to do his own thing with the FBI and maybe he hadn't visited as much as he could have, but 'abandon' was a strong word.

_Stop it, Eppes,_ he snapped at himself. _You're listening to what a crazy man told you. What the hell is wrong with you?_

Although there was the fact that Charlie and Alan hadn't seemed too concerned about him while Doug had been hitting him.

_Maybe it's true? _

_No, stop thinking like that!_

But Doug was gone, and he still hadn't heard from his family. _What if…_

"Donny," his father's voice whispered softly. "Are you awake, son?"

"Dad?" he mumbled hopefully.

"I'm so sorry, Donny. We had to let him think he's winning us over. It's the only chance we have to get out of here."

_That's why they said to trust them, you idiot!_ "Okay."

"He's gone now, Don." Charlie's voice, full of worry and regret. "Can you come over to us?"

_Sure, Buddy. I'll just hop right up and jog over there. Oh wait, I can't because-_

"Donny? Come on, son. We need to see you."

"Don't know… can," Don panted as he just managed to turn his face toward them. He smiled weakly at their concerned faces – illuminated by the moonlight filtering into the barn – and was relieved beyond words that they still loved him.

Charlie leaned as far forward as his restraints would allow and wiggled his fingers at Don. "See, bro? Just about a foot. Just get something over here – a hand, a leg… that chain – and I'll get you the rest of the way. What do you say?"

"…Try," Don whispered as he gritted his teeth and forced his debilitated body to obey. The pain began to intensify, causing darkness to creep up around the edges of his vision, but his brother's and father's soothing voices pushed the darkness back down and urged him forward. Don closed his eyes and concentrated on moving toward the sound of their voices – on stretching his arms toward his family despite the limbs screaming in protest. Just when he thought he couldn't make it another inch, he felt the most wonderful warmth wrap around his battered wrist and squeeze. He cracked an eye open and saw Charlie's face smiling at him.

"I've got you now, Don," the professor told him. "I'm going to pull you the rest of the way. It's going to hurt-"

"Don't care," Don promised.

"On three," whispered Charlie. "One. Two. Three!"

On the word 'three', Don felt a searing sting shoot down his abused arms and was unable to stop a low moan of pain. He felt the dirt floor scraping and grating against the welts and bruises on his stomach as Charlie pulled him close and kept telling him it would be over in a minute. The agonizing movement finally stopped and he let out a deep breath as he felt his father's and brother's hands soothing his injured flesh.

"I'm going to sit you up, Donny," Alan whispered. "Just hold on for me."

The world spun alarmingly as Don was rolled up off the floor, but the sensation was worth it as he soon felt himself leaning against his father's warm, solid frame. A light kiss was pressed to his forehead as a hand petted his hair.

"We're here, son," his father whispered in his ear. "We've got you."

As if to prove his point, Charlie carefully leaned against Don's side and lightly massaged Don's useless arms, apologizing as he grimaced in pain. "I'm so sorry you're going through this," his little brother whispered. "I wish I'd never met Doug."

"Careful… saying," Don warned him.

"It's okay," Charlie assured him. "I heard Doug tell you he was leaving you out here all night. Besides, he always comes in that stupid van."

"It's like there's something special about it," Alan thought aloud.

"Could be," Don whispered softly as he relaxed against his father's chest. He was more than content to sit there and bask in the love of his family – something he knew Doug could never destroy. A feeling of guilt swirled in his head as he remembered believing the madman, if even for a moment. "Sorry," he said ruefully. "So sorry."

"Shh, Donny. You have nothing to be sorry for. You did exactly what we asked and paid dearly for it. We're the ones that are sorry."

"Yeah, bro," Charlie agreed. "Just rest now, though. We've got you."

Don nodded and licked his lips as he rasped, "Okay."

"Hand me the canteen, Charlie," Alan requested as he carefully shifted Don so he was sitting more upright. The container was pressed into his father's hand, who then tilted it to Don's lips. "Nice and slow, son."

Don savored the cool liquid as it coated his dry mouth and throat. The more he drank, the thirstier he realized he was and he began guzzling the water so quickly he started to lose his breath.

"Slow down," his father chided, pulling the canteen away so Don could take a moment to breathe. "I don't want you choking on it, okay?"

The agent took deep gulps of air until his respiration was back to normal and then sheepishly looked up at his father. "I guess I didn't know just how thirsty I was."

"I know, son," Alan soothed as he lifted the canteen back to Don's lips.

The agent drank his fill and turned his head to indicate he was finished, a flush of embarrassment creeping onto his face as the water trickled from the corner of his mouth. He longed to reach up and wipe it away, but his arms were still not responding to his commands. Don was further dismayed when Charlie reached up to do it, setting off a wave of despair at how helpless he was right now. _I can't even wipe my own damn chin!_ he silently screamed. Frustration mounted as the agent restlessly shifted in his father's arms, trying to escape the feeling of vulnerability that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Easy, Donny," Alan whispered as he tightened his embrace. "You have to stay calm."

"Useless," he spat. "Can't do anything!"

"Shh, Don," Charlie pleaded as he rubbed the injured man's shoulder. "I know it's frustrating, but it'll get better. We'll get out of this soon and you'll be back to being the bossy big brother I know and love."

A faint smile appeared on Don's face as he nodded and began shivering in the cold air, pressing closer to his father and hissing as his bruised body protested. He felt Charlie carefully covering him with his upper body in an attempt to ease his trembling. "Thanks," Don sighed drowsily. Closing his eyes, the agent focused only on the touch and feel of his family as they surrounded him with warmth and love. When he felt enough strength had returned so he could speak more than one word at a time, Don looked up at his father. "What's the plan?"

Alan looked to the side, guiltily avoiding his oldest son's eyes. "We're going to tell him that we want to be a family again. Try to get him to let us go and take us up to the house."

"Hopefully we can call for help from there," Charlie added.

"Sounds dangerous," Don frowned. "_Too_ dangerous."

"We're certainly not going to sit here and let him kill you," Alan said angrily. "It was damn near impossible watching everything he's already done…"

"Sorry," Don apologized again, looking at his little brother as Charlie pressed a finger against his lips.

"Stop saying that," the professor snapped. "Okay?" To soften his words, the younger man lightly wiped at the blood staining Don's chin. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry for," he added in a soft whisper. "Nothing at all."

"There is a downside to our plan," Alan said hesitantly. Don felt his father's breathing hitch in his chest and looked up at him with a trusting gaze. "We have to put you back over there before he comes in the morning. That's the only way he'll believe our behavior is genuine."

"Right," Don said bravely, although his stomach twisted at the thought of being away from his family again. He hadn't realized just how much he'd needed their touch until he was in their embrace. "I understand."

"I wish we didn't have to…" Alan trailed off as his voice cracked.

Don cursed his senseless arms because he wanted so badly to touch his father's cheek, shoulder, _anything_ – and let him know that he really did understand. He settled for the most intense look he could manage and a confident smile. "I know. Me neither, but we have to."

His father nodded, his eyes shining with suspicious moisture, and buried his face in Don's hair. "I love you, Donny. Promise me that you know that."

"I do," Don assured him. Glancing at his little brother's troubled face, Don sought to ease the lines of worry that marred the normally handsome features. "Suck it up, genius!"

The younger man's face broke into a grin and he nodded happily. "Right, I will." He pressed closer to his big brother, and whispered, "Ditto what Dad said."

"Back atcha, Buddy."

"Try to get some sleep, son," Alan said. "You're going to need all your strength tomorrow."

"You?" Don asked as he stifled a yawn.

"I'm staying awake – someone has to make sure we're in position when morning comes."

Normally Don would argue that his father needed rest, too, but he knew the older man was right. He nodded against his father's chest and let the tension flow from his body. In less than five minutes, he'd fallen asleep to the sound of his father's heartbeat and his brother's soft snores.

--

"You're sure?" Megan spoke into her cell as she inhaled the rich aroma of her steaming cup of coffee. The sun was just starting to rise and she had anxiously been waiting for this call all night.

"As certain as I can be given all of the data I have," Larry answered, his voice distorted by the cell signal. "I considered using another approach that would be far superior in terms of accuracy and narrowing down the search area, but you said time was of the essence – a fact I would be happy to debate with you at a later-"

"Larry," Megan interrupted quietly.

"Of course. I'm babbling. My apologies. I'm just so distraught at the thought of-"

"Me, too," she cut him off again. "I've got the coordinates so I'm going to get the search grid set up. I'll call you as soon as we know, okay?"

"I'll be waiting. Oh, Megan?"

"Yes?"

"Please exercise the utmost caution. I would not be able to effectively cope if you were to disappear as well."

"Sure, Larry," she smiled, although he couldn't see it. "Just for you." Flipping her phone shut, she ignored Colby's look and proceeded to outline a large area on the map.

"That's still a lot of area to cover, Agent Reeves," Moulton frowned. "That'll take us all day and that's _if_ we're lucky."

"It's better than eleven hundred acres," she pointed out. "You mentioned that you have four rugged-terrain vehicles?"

"Right," the sheriff nodded. "Gassed up and ready to go."

"We've got six agents and you and your five volunteers, so three people per vehicle. Since you're more familiar with terrain and your men, I'll trust you to divvy up the teams and map out the grid."

"I appreciate the confidence," the sheriff thanked her.

"I'm going to go brief my teams. We'll be ready and waiting for your go." Once he'd indicated he agreed, Megan led Colby and David out of the small building and into the early morning sunrise. She held up a hand and squinted against the bright light as she gestured her fellow agents to join her.

"You think they're still alive?" David asked glumly.

"Depends on his motive," Megan replied, making sure to keep her voice level. "But I'm not going to give up until we find them."

"Me neither," Colby seconded.

"Right," David said, his confidence returning. "Banks doesn't stand a chance."

--

Doug woke bright and early the next morning, eager to visit his family and get started on catching up for lost time. He showered and started to cook breakfast but decided that would be the first thing they did together. He went outside, hopped into his van and drove down to the barn. Once there, he killed the engine and made his way to the old stall, barely containing a grin of anticipation. Talking a quick peek around the corner, Doug let the smile break through.

There was Don – lying almost exactly where he'd left him – his arm outstretched toward Alan and Charlie, as if asking for help. Banks was pretty sure Charlie could have reached out and touched the agent – if he'd _wanted_ to.

"Finally," Doug whispered to himself before clearing his throat. "Good morning, Charlie-boy."

The young professor's eyes groggily opened and he smiled as soon as he saw his old friend. "Doug! Good morning."

"Alan?"

The older man opened his eyes, too. "Good morning, son."

Banks' heart soared at the word and he quickly threw open the door. "I'm so sorry for keeping you two locked up like this the past few days, but I had to make sure you understood." He knelt down, just out of reach and cocked his head. "You _do_ understand, right?"

"That we were fools to ever let you go?" Charlie asked. "Yeah. And letting Don back into our lives – that was the second biggest mistake."

"Because he abandoned you and you just took him back – no questions asked." Doug reached into his pocked and produced the key to the metal bracelets. "I'm going to unlock you from the ring, but I'm afraid you'll have to ride up to the house still in the cuffs. Just one last precaution."

"We understand, son," Alan smiled warmly. "And we appreciate your giving us a second chance."

"Everybody deserves a second chance," Banks smiled as he freed Charlie only to restrain his hand behind his back. "Hold on for me, Alan, while I get Charlie settled."

"That's a pretty old van," Charlie remarked as his old friend led him to climb into the back. "Why not something newer?"

"I don't really ever leave the property, so I don't need anything newer. Besides, this van is very special to us. I'll tell you all about that later. Now, hold tight while I get Alan."

"Sure thing," Charlie nodded.

Doug returned to the stall to fetch Alan and was pleased to see the older man glaring at Don's shivering form. "Pretty pathetic, huh?" Doug asked as he released Alan's wrist and restrained his hands behind his back.

"I don't even know what to say," Alan sighed. "You want to say that you're proud of your children, but sometimes… He _is_ my flesh and blood, though. I can't be too hateful."

"Of course not," Banks agreed. "You're his father but you don't have to like him. Just remember how nice it was when he was gone and it was just us – me, you, and Charlie. We had so many good times, remember?"

"I do," Alan replied wistfully. "I'm looking forward to more good times, too." He hesitated and glanced at Doug. "Do me a favor, son."

"Name it."

"Since he _is_ my flesh and blood and he's already so close to being gone, just leave him out here and let him fade away. I owe him that much."

Doug's eyes flickered with doubt. _Maybe he doesn't understand._ "I could just shoot him and end it all now. That'd be more merciful."

"He really doesn't have much longer left," Alan countered. "Just let him drift away. Please, son. My conscience will stay clear that way and I can focus on my real family."

"Okay, Alan. Since you asked, I will."

"Thank you."

Doug led Alan to the van and placed him inside next to Charlie. "One last thing to do and then we can go." He closed the door and walked back to the stall, intent on taking care of Don. He couldn't shoot him now, because he'd promised Alan he wouldn't. He could slit his throat and his family would never know the difference. As he stepped inside and towered over the agent's helpless form, Doug shook his head. "No, I promised him I wouldn't. Lucky for you," he sneered.

He dragged Don's limp body to the ring that had held Charlie and Alan and cuffed the injured man's right arm to it. Banks knelt down and patted Don's cheek until his eyes fluttered open and he stared at Doug in confusion and pain. "What?"

"I told you, didn't I? Your family is _mine_ – they don't want you anymore. How's that feel? I want you to think about that while you die a nice, slow death, because that's exactly what you did to me when you kicked me out of their lives four years ago." He stood and nudged Don's side with his foot, his face breaking out into a huge smile when Don let a small moan escape. "Told you I could make you holler. Now, I'm going home with _my_ family and none of us will ever give you another thought."

He spun on his heel and left the agent behind, ready to make up for lost time with Charlie and Alan.

--

"Remember, stay in radio contact at all times," Megan briefed the eleven people standing in front of her. "And please, make sure you stick your assigned area and that you follow the grid exactly. We've had an expert help us narrow down the most likely area that Banks' house would be in. If you do find it, radio for backup – there are three lives at stake here. Any questions?" She paused for a minute in case anyone wanted to speak up. "Okay, head out to your vehicles and get started. We need to do our best to find them before dark. If we don't, meet back here and we'll go again tomorrow morning."

She turned to Colby and David – each assigned to a separate team – and wished them good luck. She climbed into the all-terrain vehicle with a deputy – Deputy Travers – and a farmer who had volunteered. Megan felt guilty at dragging some poor farmer into the search, but she needed all the eyes she could get. "If there's any shooting make sure you keep your head down."

The farmer grinned at her and winked at the deputy who was fighting back laughter. "The name's Roy Collins, ma'am. I did a stint in the Marines as a sniper – even saw combat."

"Thank goodness," she smiled. "Well then, Roy, if there's any shooting, I expect you to be the one doing it."

"Count on that, ma'am."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Charlie and Alan sat at the dining table – still in the shackles – while Doug busied himself making breakfast. The aroma was wonderful and Charlie was embarrassed to hear his stomach issue a loud growl.

"Hold your horses, Charlie-boy," Doug laughed. "I'm cooking as fast as I can. Just be glad I remembered that you don't like pancakes."

"Oh, I am," Charlie said, making his voice as light as possible. "Not to be a bother, but I'd love a shower."

"Eat first," Banks said as he divided a large pan of scrambled eggs onto three plates. "But you do stink, so we'll see about showers later." He looked over his shoulder and winked. "You always were a little stinker, Charlie-boy."

"Takes one to know one," the professor shot back, noticing how Doug's demeanor was becoming more and more relaxed as they exchanged friendly banter. "Hurry up with the food, will you? I'm hungry!"

"You never did teach him the art of patience, Alan."

"No, regrettably that has proven an impossible task," the older man shook his head. "Maybe you can help me get it through his thick skull."

"I'm not a miracle worker," Banks chuckled as he set the plates full of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of the two men. "Eat up."

Charlie dug in with enthusiasm, doing his best not to get sick as thoughts of Don alone and suffering in the barn rambled through his head. "You always could cook," he said through a mouthful of egg.

"No talking with your mouth full," Doug warned him as he playfully smacked the back of his head. "Geez, Alan – we've got our work cut out for us."

"Tell me about it," the oldest Eppes sighed. "So, let's catch up. How have you been all these years?"

"Ah, right to it, huh? Sure, we've got all day. Well, when Margaret first got sick and you and Charlie turned away from me, I figured it was because of her. I knew she never really liked me, you see. But it didn't matter because she would be dying pretty soon and then we'd be a family." Doug shook his head at the memory, oblivious to the brief looks of horror that had crossed his two captives' faces. "But then Don came home and kicked me out. I knew it wasn't your fault, but I couldn't get in touch with you. I went by CalSci to talk to Charlie, but he ignored me."

"That was a rough time for me," Charlie whispered. "I pretty much ignored everyone most of the time, especially at first."

"I didn't know that," Banks told him. "I just knew that Don had shown up and that was all she wrote for me. I sold everything – except some of our mementos – and bought that van." He hooked a thumb at the window. "I just drove forever – filled up the tank five or six times – until the van stopped running. I intended to start over and make a new life, only I'd spent all of my money on the van and the gas to get away. So I slept in the van a few nights and scouted around for some kind of odd job I could pick up. After three days of coming up empty, hunger started to get the better of me and I tried mugging someone."

"Oh, Doug," Alan whispered. "That's horrible."

"Funny thing was I got ten bucks for my trouble and a ticket straight to jail – guy I mugged was a snitch for the cops. They impounded my van and I did six months in jail. When I got out, I got the van back and sold it to some kid. I took the money and got a room at a halfway house while I looked for a job. Found a help wanted sign in a diner and went to work. The boss was a crook though – always shorting my paychecks and threatening to say I robbed him if I made a stink about it. He knew about my record and wasn't afraid to use it against me."

"Doug," Charlie said sympathetically. "Why didn't you ever try to call?"

"You had Don," he spat. "Didn't need me any more."

"We still cared about you," Alan assured him.

"Whatever – those days are gone. Anyway, after a year or so of that horrible life – no friends or family – I decided to try and start over again. So I came up here to visit my grandfather and see if he'd put me up." Banks shifted nervously as he paused his tale, knowing Alan and Charlie would be disappointed in him if he told them that he'd actually killed the old man. "I, um… found him dead when I got here. I know it was wrong, but he had social security checks that came in each month and he was pretty much self-sufficient up here, so I decided to stay and not tell anyone what I'd found." Sensing Charlie an Alan's unease, he quickly grinned. "Hey! Do you know what else I have? Those mementos I told you I kept? They're in the cellar. Let me get them and we can look at them together."

Doug rose from the table and trotted to the cellar door, glancing back over his shoulder. _Maybe I should cuff them to the table,_ he thought. Seeing the eager looks on their faces, he laughed at himself. _No, they're just as happy to be back as I am to have them back._ "I'll just be a minute," he assured them.

Banks unlocked the padlock and opened the latch, letting himself into the dank cellar. He lit the lantern at the top of the steps and cautiously made his way down the steep flight of stairs. Once at the bottom, he set the lantern on a shelf and bent down to remove the tarp covering his keepsakes. He lovingly stroked the old cardboard in anticipation of good times he was about to relive with his family. As Doug slid his hands under the first box, he heard the door softly click shut.

_No!_ he yelled at himself. _No, they wouldn't!_ He rushed to the foot of the steps and looked up, glaring at the closed door. _And I left the lock hanging from the latch. Damn it!_

Storming up the stairs, he angrily pounded on the heavy oak door. "Let me out! You can't do this!" He twisted and pounded and yelled until he was sore and his voice had given out. _No,_ he sobbed silently. _I can't lose you again._

Then he remembered what else he kept in the cellar.

An emotionless smile spread across his face as Doug calmly descended the stairs, a new plan forming in his head.

--

"Hurry!" Charlie hissed at his father as he grabbed Doug's keys from his jacket pocket where it hung by the front door. He fumbled with his shackles, eventually unlocking and dropping them to the floor.

"I'm grabbing the blankets from his bed," Alan responded. "Donny needs to get warm. You grab some food."

"We don't have time," Charlie argued.

"You can raid his fridge in less than a minute while I get the other stuff."

The professor rolled his eyes but opened the refrigerator, quickly grabbing the bag of oranges he found there. He moved to the cabinet and threw two cans of beans into the bag before moving to the twelve pack of bottled water. He'd just balanced his loot on his arm when his father appeared carrying a large, bundled up blanket.

"Let's go," Alan ordered.

The two scrambled to the van and hopped in, Charlie automatically going to the driver's seat, tossing the key to the restraints to his father. He turned the engine and prayed it would start, sighing with relief when it roared to life. Throwing it in gear, Charlie sped down the grassy slope and in the direction of the barn that had been their prison. He swerved through the huge open doorway of the barn and slammed on the brakes, inches from running onto an old horse-drawn wagon.

The two Eppes leaped from the van and sprinted to the old stall, hastily ripping the door open to get to their loved one.

"Don!" Charlie called frantically, dropping to his knees by his brother's side. "Don. We're back!"

"Charlie?" Don groaned as he opened his eyes. "You're both okay?"

"Yes, son, we are," Alan promised. "Hang on – we're going to get you out of here." He gently bundled Don in the blanket he'd brought with him, while Charlie unlocked the bracelet around his brother's wrist. "Okay, Donny, we've got to go. Hold on for me."

The agent nodded as his brother and father lifted him to his feet and started dragging him to the van. He bit back several grunts of pain as he tripped and stumbled along the way, but Charlie and Alan didn't slow down their pace at all.

"Sorry, Don," Charlie whispered as he kept moving forward. "But there's a chance Doug could be coming after us at any minute."

"What?" he asked in a confused voice. "What did you-"

"Later, Donny," Alan hushed him as he waited for Charlie to open the back doors of the van. Alan climbed inside and helped Charlie get the injured man into the back before sitting down and cradling his bundled son in his embrace. "I'm set – go, Charlie!"

The professor slammed the doors closed and hopped back in the driver's seat, throwing the vehicle into reverse and speeding out of the barn. He started driving back toward the house, frowning as Alan spoke up.

"Are you crazy? You're going back?"

"I was paying attention as best I could when he brought us here," Charlie explained. "And I'm positive we came from somewhere behind the house."

"I hope you're right," Alan replied, his eyes focusing on his oldest son's battered face, trying to cushion him from the rough jostling of the van as Charlie sped across the uneven terrain. He tenderly trailed his fingers down Don's unmarred cheek and sighed in despair. "I'm so sorry, son. But we've got you now – just hang in there."

"…'Kay, Dad," Don whispered faintly.

"This will all be over soon," he soothed, knowing that it would be and hopefully in a way that they could all live with.

--

Doug had never really thought that he'd ever appreciate his grandfather's paranoia, but today it was proving to be a good thing. Howard Banks had been so afraid of technology and civilization, that'd he'd built his house in the middle of his large plot of land, making sure there were no roads or marked paths that someone could follow to find him. Furthermore, the old man had built hidden compartments all throughout the house – something Doug was certain Charlie would have enjoyed examining – and a secret tunnel from the cellar to the back off the house. Doug was currently climbing up the small tunnel – the old shotgun that had been stored in the basement gripped tightly in his hand – on his way to stop his family's escape.

He reached the exit and cautiously opened the door, not wanting to alert the Eppes on the off chance that they were still in the house. Seeing that his van was missing from the driveway, Doug's anger increased a thousand-fold.

_They took my van to get him? And they abandoned me again?_ He slipped a shell into the chamber and readied the ancient weapon as he peered around the corner of the house down to the barn. _Too bad they didn't want the second chance – I don't believe in giving a third._

Doug's face relaxed into a calculating smile as he saw the van driving up the hill from the barn and coming back to the house. He crept forward – careful to stay hidden in the shadows of the house – and knelt in the dirt. He lifted the shotgun and tightly pressed the butt into his shoulder before sighting down the barrel at his target.

_All those years of hunting with Grandfather are about to pay off,_ he thought happily. Banks tracked the van as it moved, getting a feel for its speed and direction and planning his shot accordingly. Once he was certain he'd determined the best angle for his shot, he braced himself, took a deep breath and gently applied pressure on the trigger.

The resounding bang was loud enough to dislodge two loose shingles from the roof.

--

Megan dejectedly marked off another section of their search area, her optimism finally beginning to dwindle. They'd covered almost half of their assigned area without so much as a hint of Howard Banks' home or Doug Banks and the Eppes. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stared at the map, willing it to tell her what she wanted to know.

"Don't worry, Megan," Roy called over his shoulder to where she sat in the backseat. "We've still got a lot of daylight left."

"I know." She smiled at his attempt to ease her mind. "It's just so frustrating to know that they're here – somewhere – but still not having a clue." She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "That didn't make any sense, did it?"

He was about to reply when a loud explosion rang out from nearby. Megan craned her head in search of the source, but couldn't make heads or tails through the surrounding mountains and trees. She was about to question the men in the front when she saw Roy gesturing for the driver to steer off to the west. "You know where it came from?" she asked hopefully.

"Part of my sniper training," he grinned. "I can pinpoint the origination of most explosions and gunshots. My instructor always said I was a natural."

"Makes me even more glad you're along for the ride. Where do I need to tell the other groups to meet us?" The agent handed the map to the former Marine.

"Right in this area," he answered, tapping one of the grids on the map. "Wouldn't pull all the men – I have been wrong once before." Seeing her look, he grinned cockily. "_Only_ once."

"Right," she nodded. She called over the radio for the two closest teams – which happened to be Colby's and David's – to meet them at the suspected location. Once they confirmed her request, she tucked the radio away and pulled out her service weapon, checking to make sure it was ready to go. Comforted by the reassuring feel of the gun in her hands, she looked up and squinted ahead. "Hang on, guys," she whispered aloud. "We're coming."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Charlie buried his face in his hands and berated himself for being the worst driver on the planet. He'd been driving the van back the way he thought Doug had brought them in and – just as they were passing the house – he'd seen a figure moving in the shadows. The young genius had only needed another second to recognize the shotgun being aimed at them, which made him accelerate even more dangerously along the rugged terrain. The loud explosion that had sounded as he'd sped past the house had only added fuel to the fire and Charlie had driven with the singular goal of putting as much space between them and Doug as he could.

His heart had been pounding as he'd barreled along, not knowing if Doug would have kept another vehicle – perhaps a four-wheeler or something similar – that he would be giving chase in. Determined not to find out, Charlie had continued on as fast as he dared – faster than he should have – for several minutes until his father's voice sounded from the back, begging him to slow down for Don's sake. "All this bumping around is hurting him," Alan had advised his youngest son. "We're far enough away that warp speed one should suffice."

Still nervous but keeping his brother's comfort first and foremost, Charlie had slowed down and simultaneously realized that he had no idea where they were. In his haste to get away, he'd stopped retracing the journey they had traveled with Doug only a few days ago. He'd concentrated as hard as he could as he drove, trying to correlate anything he was seeing to the parts of their initial trip that he remembered. It was during this intense moment of thought that Charlie had failed to see the large ditch in their path and sent them plummeting down three feet to land awkwardly – and permanently – in the dried out trough.

"I'm sorry," he said again for at least the fifth time as he peered over his shoulder. "Are you sure you're both okay back there?"

"We're fine," his father answered with a smile as he petted Don's hair. "A little shaken up, but nothing too traumatizing."

"I was trying to figure out where to go," the professor groaned. "I wasn't paying enough attention."

"It's fine, Charlie," Alan assured him. "Donny and I survived just fine and we should have put a lot of distance between us and Doug."

"I still feel bad," the professor mumbled. "I'm going to get out and check to see if we can get un-stuck or at least if I can make us less noticeable in case Doug does make it this far."

"Good idea, son. We'll be waiting."

Charlie climbed from the van and walked around the exterior, his heart sinking as he realized the van wouldn't be going anywhere without a tow truck. The good news was that the ditch was surrounded by a grove of trees – _wonder how in the world I managed not to run into those_ – and would not likely be noticed unless someone was consciously checking the area for it. Comforted by that thought, he opened the back doors of the van and climbed in, shutting and locking them behind him. Charlie moved to the front and made sure both of those doors were locked, tucked the keys in his pocket and joined his brother and father in the back of the van.

"We're pretty much hidden," he told his father. "And even if Doug does find us, we'll hear him and we're locked in. That should give us time to do something."

"Something like _what_?" Alan queried.

"We've been winging it up to this point," Charlie shrugged. "No reason to stop now."

"Right," his father replied dryly.

"Keep it down," Don whispered as his eyes fluttered open. "Trying to sleep." His tone was gruff, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

"How are you feeling?" his little brother asked.

"Sore, but happy to be free."

"Right," the professor grinned as he grabbed the bag of food. "Hungry?"

"No," Don sighed.

"You need to eat anyway," his father insisted, indicating that Charlie should proceed.

Nodding in agreement, Charlie peeled an orange and broke the segments apart while his father helped Don to take a few swallows of water. The professor started to hand a piece to his brother, mentally kicking himself as Don tried to lift his hand toward him, only to let the leaden limb drop as he moaned in pain. Alan gestured for Charlie to hand it over which he did, leaning back and watching how his father gently tended to Don.

"Open up," Alan urged softly, smiling as his oldest obeyed. He slipped the orange segment into his son's mouth and rested his hand on the injured man's shoulder in case he started to choke or had a hard time eating the fruit.

Don smiled thankfully at his father and brother as he tucked the orange segment into his cheek and sucked the juice from it before chewing the rest and carefully swallowing. "That's good," he told them. "More?"

Charlie picked up another piece and slipped it into Don's mouth himself, needing to feel useful. As Don finished that piece, his little brother was ready with the next one and they soon had a rhythm going until the last piece of fruit was gone. Wiping his sticky hands on his pants, Charlie asked his big brother, "Want another one?"

"That's good for now," Don replied as his eyes started to drift shut.

"Hand me a bottle of water," Alan said to his youngest son as he carefully started unwrapping the blanket from around Don's body. "Donny, I want to clean these deeper cuts, okay? I'll be as gentle as I can."

"I know," Don replied, his face tensing in anticipation of the pain to come.

Eyeing his youngest son, Alan noticed that he was wearing two shirts, as usual. "Let me have one of your shirts to clean the dirt and blood with."

"Sure," Charlie grumbled playfully as he shrugged out of his top shirt. "Either of you two notice that it's always _my_ wardrobe that's being sacrificed for the greater good?"

"It's the cheapest to replace," Don wearily joked.

"When we get out of here, you _are_ going to pay for that," the professor warned with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"The shirt?" the agent inquired. "No problem – I've got a couple of bucks."

Charlie just rolled his eyes and handed his shirt to his father along with a bottle of water. Slipping his hand into Don's, he smiled encouragingly and tightened his fingers around his brother's limp ones. "If it hurts too badly, you can squeeze my hand."

"I can't," the injured man confessed. "I can't feel my hands at all." At the panicked look on his younger brother's face, Don gave him the most reassuring look he could muster. "I'm sure it's just temporary – blood's just now flowing again."

"I'm sure that's it," Alan said, though he cast a worried look over the top of Don's head at Charlie.

"Hey, Charlie," Don caught the professor's attention. "About the joking and this…" He paused as he glanced at their entwined hands. "Thanks. I… It means a lot to me."

"Anytime, Don," the younger man nodded.

"Okay, Donny," Alan interrupted the two brothers as he wet Charlie's shirt. "Just bear with me."

"Okay, Dad."

Charlie watched as his father tenderly dabbed the cloth over the gashes that were crusted with a mixture of dirt and blood, causing Don to grimace in pain. Alan was being as gentle as possible but as some of the lacerations were cleaned, new blood started seeping from them. He carefully wiped that away, too, until Don's chest was relatively clean.

Charlie sucked in a breath as he was able to fully see the damage that Doug had inflicted on his brother. Don's chest was a landscape of purple, black, green, yellow and red bruising, crisscrossed by countless red welts. A particularly dark bruise right over his brother's ribcage made Charlie wonder if the bones beneath were cracked or flat out broken.

"Breathe, Donny," Alan whispered in Don's ear, his voice loud enough to draw Charlie attention away from his brother's injuries. It was then that the professor realized Don was shallowly panting for air, his body so tense that Charlie worried he would cause himself further injury.

"Doing good, bro," he weakly forced out, wondering just how much more his tough big brother could take. "But you gotta take some nice, deep breaths for me." The agent was in too much pain to verbally respond, but he did make a conscious effort to start inhaling and exhaling at regular intervals. "That's it, Don. Keep it up for me."

"We need to tend to the rest of your injuries, too," Alan told his injured son. "Charlie, sit next to me and hold him so I can get to his back."

The young man quickly obeyed, carefully accepting Don's body as Alan rolled him into his lap. With his big brother's head resting on his shoulder, Charlie rested his chin in the crook of his neck, still keeping a tight grip on Don's hand. "Hang in there just a few more minutes," he soothed, smiling as Don seemed to relax against him.

Alan repeated his treatment on Don's back until it too was clean from caked mud and blood, revealing deep, dark bruising over both of Don's kidneys. Again Charlie was shocked at just how much damage his former friend had inflicted and again he felt that little stirring of guilt for having ever befriended Doug. "I'm sorry," he breathed aloud.

"S'okay," Don whispered softly. "Had to be done."

The professor was confused for a moment until he realized Don was talking about cleaning his wounds. "I know," he agreed, deciding to play along with that idea. "You did so good, too. I'm so proud to have you as my big brother."

"Thanks," Don replied with a hint of something in his voice that Charlie couldn't quite decipher. Before he could inquire further, his father was gently pulling Don from his embrace and settling him back into his lap and the waiting blanket.

"You did do very well, Donny," Alan crooned as he lovingly wrapped the blanket around Don's injured body. "Now, close your eyes and get some sleep."

"What if Doug-"

"You let us worry about that," Charlie cut his brother off. "You just close your eyes and rest."

"Okay, Buddy," Don sighed as he relaxed into his father's protective embrace.

Charlie smiled warmly at his older brother and impulsively reached out and smoothed a hand through his hair. Don dragged his eyes open and hazily gazed at his brother – a look of love and complete trust in his eyes – before nodding back off to sleep. Feeling a sudden surge in his confidence and determination, Charlie settled in to keep watch over his family and try to figure out what their next move should be.

--

"No way we're identifying _that_ body," Colby remarked as he stared down at the grizzly sight by the Banks' house.

"We'll have to use dental records or DNA," Megan frowned. "At least there's enough left to know it's not one of the Eppes."

"I doubt it's Howard, either," David said as he knelt by the dead man. "From what I can see, this guy wasn't old."

"And not too handy with a shotgun," Megan commented. "Looks like it blew up right in his face."

"That'll teach you to use proper gun care," Colby snorted as he stood behind the body and stared down the hill. "Looks like he might have been aiming down toward that barn. We should check it out."

"Good idea," David said as he stood up and dusted off his pants.

"Agents," Sheriff Moulton beckoned them from the door to the farmhouse. "I think we found Howard Banks."

"Is he talking?" Megan inquired hopefully.

"Not for some time now, no. I think you'd best have a look."

Moulton led the agents inside the house, pausing to gesture at the dining table.

"Three place settings," David thought aloud. "Either he had had accomplices-"

"I don't think that's his style," Megan interrupted. "Remember? He has no friends or family listed in his file, except Howard Banks."

"So he was feeding the Eppes?" David asked. "That would be good news."

"Unless…" Colby tailed off and looked at his colleagues. "You would assume he was eating, too, right?"

"So two extra plates," David said hesitantly. "For two of the Eppes?"

"We also found two sets of shackles lying on the floor in here," the sheriff told them as he gestured at an evidence bag lying on the counter.

"Two…" David repeated.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Megan shook her head. Looking at the sheriff, she said, "Let's see what else you found."

Moulton led the way from the dining room and down an old flight of stairs into the cellar. He stood back and gestured toward a dark corner where one of his deputies was shining a flashlight. "Found an old chest that had a lot of discoloration in the dirt around it," he explained.

Megan led her two coworkers to the chest whose lid had been propped open. She peered inside and eyed the skeletal remains that were haphazardly piled in a heap. Sliding on a latex glove, she looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "You already took pictures?" At the sheriff's nod, Megan moved a long bone aside and tilted the skull to get a better angle. "Missing a lot of teeth," she observed. "The ones left are in pretty bad shape."

"Howard never went to the dentist a day in his life," Moulton stated. "If he had a toothache, the old man would have let the tooth fall out or pulled it himself."

"So no dental records and no DNA on file," David sighed.

"But enough circumstantial evidence for me." the sheriff told them. "You can confirm it later all you want, but that _is_ Howard Banks."

"So, his grandfather dies and he leaves him in the basement?" Colby asked disbelievingly. "That's just creepy."

"Or," Megan said as she tapped her lip with her finger. "What if Douglas kills him? His grandfather turned him away all those years ago and Banks winds up growing up without any real family. He grows up and meets the Eppes and… maybe he thinks of them as the family he'd missed out on?"

"But Larry said he hadn't seen Banks since Margaret died," David argued. "If they were like family, wouldn't he have kept in touch?"

"Not if he thought he'd been rejected again," she countered. "Don came back to LA when his mother got sick. Think about it – Banks had been enjoying a close relationship with Charlie and Alan… and then Don shows up. Kind of puts him in an uncertain frame of mind about where he stands, right?"

"I guess," Colby shrugged.

"And Charlie and Alan are so busy with Margaret being sick, they'd be focusing solely on her and possibly Don, too, since he's finally back home."

"No time or room left for Banks," David nodded. "I see what you're saying."

"But why not do whatever he's done now back then?" Colby challenged. "Why wait all of this time?"

"Something happened during the past few years," Megan replied. "Something that triggered him. Maybe he came up here and his grandfather rejected him a second time? Made him angry enough to kill – his _first_ kill."

"And after he's done it once…" David began.

"…He discovers it's not as hard as he thought," Colby finished, shaking his head in frustration. "That's a sound theory, but I hope to God you're wrong." At Megan's questioning look, he explained, "Because he wouldn't want Don back – just Charlie and Alan. And he took all three."

"There were only _two_ extra dinner plates," David worriedly remarked.

"If he did something to Don…" Megan sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I don't see Charlie and Alan being willing to consider revisiting their relationship with him."

"And like you just theorized," Colby said, looking angrily at the chest containing the remains. "Banks doesn't like to be rejected twice."

--

"I'm not arguing about spending the night here," Alan quietly whispered to his youngest son. "But what do you think we should do in the morning?"

Charlie stayed silent as he drew old, familiar equations in the dust covering the floor of the van.

"Charlie," Alan pleaded quietly. "I need you here with me."

The professor held up his left hand indicating for his father to be quiet, his right hand speeding up as he traced his index finger through the dirt.

Alan swallowed nervously and looked down at his other son, still sound asleep in his arms. He lightly ran a hand along Don's spiky hair and held him closer in the cool evening air. The injured man shifted his head, but didn't wake.

"Dad," Charlie spoke softly.

"Thank goodness," the older man breathed a sigh of relief. "I was afraid I'd lost you to… well, you know."

"What?" the genius asked with a baffled look on his face. Following his father's gaze to the equations in the dust, he smiled. "Those aren't what you think they are."

"No?"

"No," Charlie beamed. "I was going over what I could recall about the route to the house. Then I tried to retrace the path we took to wind up here."

"Tried?" Alan asked doubtfully.

"I'm pretty sure I remembered it all," the professor stated. "Then I was able to go back and overlay the two routes in my head. Using the-"

"Layman's terms, Charlie. _Please._"

"Okay, well I think I know how we can get back to the main road we came in on."

"I don't mean to sound pessimistic, son," Alan sighed. "But how do you propose we get there? The van's not going anywhere and I don't think your brother could make it five feet without falling down."

"We can carry him," Charlie suggested as he stared down at his older brother, frowning at the way his face was creased with lines of pain even in sleep.

"We can? Exactly how far is it to the main road?"

Charlie hesitated as he looked his father in the eye. "By my calculations? About three quarters of a mile."

"And that's assuming you've remembered all the details of our trip – both to and from that place – correctly."

"I'm doing the best I can," Charlie replied, his voice quiet and full of hurt. "We can't just sit here, though."

"That's true," his father said softly, attempting to soothe his son's feelings. "And I don't very much like the idea of you wandering off for help by yourself."

"There is another option," the young man whispered.

"What?" Alan inquired, sensing he wasn't about to like the answer.

"By my calculations, we can make it back to the house – it's a lot closer. And I do remember the route we took to get away. Not to mention there's got to be disturbances in the grass and brush from the way I was driving."

"Excuse me." Alan spoke slowly and deliberately, trying to keep from raising his voice. "Did you say… _back_ to the house?"

"We know there's food and supplies there. If Doug could live there indefinitely, then we could make it there long enough to figure something out."

"Right," his father snapped, his emotions coming to a head. "And I'm sure Doug will welcome us back with open arms. Just tuck Don into bed and we'll all be one big, happy family."

"Dad," Charlie pleaded, lowering his voice as Don stirred in his father's arms. "We don't have a lot of options. Do _you_ have a better idea?"

"No, I don't." Alan looked down at Don and stroked his cheek until he settled, then raised his eyes to his other son. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm just so worried and frustrated right now."

"Me, too."

"So if we decide to go back, what about Doug?"

"We outthought him once," Charlie offered. "We'll have to hope we can do it again." Glancing down at his injured brother, the professor's face hardened as he thought of their tormentor. "Or we could get the drop on him and leave _him_ in the barn for a change."

"Let's just rest for tonight," Alan said. "Maybe in the morning we'll think of something else."

"And if we don't?" the young genius challenged.

"Then we'll do what we have to do."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Megan stared at the converted stall in front of them, her mind swirling with images she didn't want to see. She walked through the door and knelt by the ring in the wall, glaring at the set of shackles still locked around the ring. Reaching out and tilting them in the waning light of day, the agent frowned as she eyed the reddish-brown stain and thought about who might have left it.

"Blood?" David asked, although he already knew the answer.

"On both bracelets," she answered. "Like someone was trying to get away."

"Maybe not," Colby spoke up as he spied an old, rusty hook in the dirt a few feet in front of the stall. Looking up, he pointed at a hole in a beam overhead. "Looks like this hook would have fit in there, don't you think?"

"Oh man," David sighed. "You think he hung someone with those shackles?"

Colby didn't answer him, instead moving under the beam and looking straight ahead into the stall. "Perfect view," he muttered.

Megan met his eyes and slowly stood up. "So, he hung someone from that hook and…" she trailed off and ran both hands through her hair. Swallowing the bile that rose in the back of her throat, she looked solemnly at Colby. "You think he had an audience in here."

"Chained up to that ring, yeah," Colby replied.

"And we're assuming he didn't want Don to be a part of their 'family', so he was probably the one," David stopped talking and gestured where Colby was standing. "So Alan and Charlie had to watch?"

"I hope not." Megan suddenly waved her hands and stared at her coworkers. "We're getting off track again! We have to stop speculating and step back – evaluate the scene objectively."

"Sure," Colby laughed bitterly. "That ought to be easy."

"Let's just think," she continued, ignoring the other agent's comment. "What are we missing here?"

"The van," David answered with a smile. "We haven't found his van."

"And given how much trouble he went through to get it, I don't see him driving it off and ditching it." Nodding her head, her thoughts started to grow a little more optimistic as she exited the stall and looked toward the wide open doorway. "And since Banks is dead and we're pretty certain he didn't have an accomplice…"

"Maybe the Eppes took the van," David finished for her. "Would they even know how to get back to town?"

"Well," Colby drawled. "The Magical Math Whiz is with them."

"We need to get all of the search teams up here and coordinate a new search, radiating out from the house and barn," Megan radioed to the sheriff. "We think the Eppes made an escape."

"Roger that," Moulton radioed back. "I'll call them in. Come on back up to the house and we'll lay out a new grid."

By the time the agents reached the house, the sheriff was waiting for them in the dining room, a map spread across the table. "Figured Banks wouldn't mind us using this as a headquarters," he said dryly. "I've got the search area outlined, so we're just waiting on the rest of the teams to get up here."

There was something in his voice that made Megan look at him and raise an eyebrow. "You have something else on your mind, sheriff?"

"I do," the man nodded. "Most of the teams are still about twenty minutes out, and they're having to get up here based on our directions and their maps at dusk. By the time they get here, it's going to be getting dark, if not night already."

"Sheriff," Megan spoke up. "I know where you're going with this, but we have three men out there somewhere, probably injured and possibly lost. We can't afford to wait."

"Agent Reeves," Moulton spoke softly and with sincere sympathy. "Do you remember your ride up here? Remember how treacherous the terrain was? I can't – won't – ask my men to navigate it in the dark. I'm sorry."

"What part of 'probably injured' do you not understand?" she shot back. "They could need medical treatment."

"And they could be holed up somewhere, alive and well and sleeping through the night."

"Not according to the blood on those cuffs in the barn," David argued.

The sheriff shook his head. "I truly am sorry, agents, but I will not endanger my men. Come sunrise I promise you every last one will be geared up and ready to go and we _will_ look for them then."

"If they're not dead," Colby said angrily, although his instincts told him that Moulton was right.

"Son," Moulton spoke in a fatherly voice. "The best thing any of us can do for them tonight is pray."

--

_Don felt the burning sting of the rein as Doug brought it crashing down on his back. Before he could even draw a breath, he felt fists repeated striking his kidneys, and fire erupting in his knee. He tried to breathe through the pain – to hold on for his family – but water was suddenly rushing into his mouth, filling his lungs and choking him…_

Don snapped awake, his head slowly turning to take in his surroundings. His racing heart started to slow as he remembered that he and his family had escaped from the madman and that they were safe now.

_Relatively safe, you mean,_ he thought to himself. _They never did tell you what happened with Doug._

The agent felt a sudden urge to get up and check to make sure Doug wasn't lurking just outside the van door but knew that he wouldn't even be able to stand. Frustration clouded his mind and he angrily tried to clench his fists, almost crying out in despair when his hands still didn't respond. Don was dismayed to feel his eyes growing moist and even more alarmed when he heard his brother's soft voice.

"Shh, Don. You're okay."

_Okay?_ he laughed bitterly. _We gotta get you a dictionary, Buddy._

"Easy," Charlie's voice was closer and Don could feel warmth gently enveloping his battered wrist. "I've got you. Dad and I are here."

Don kept his eyes closed and willed the telltale moisture to go away. When he was certain he'd succeeded, he cracked his eyelids open and regarded his brother with a bleary gaze.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like teaching you a new phrase," Don whispered jokingly.

"You're impossible," Charlie shot back, although he was grinning from ear to ear. "Thirsty? Hungry?"

He was about to answer in the negative, but a sudden dryness in his mouth and a low growl from his stomach prompted him to tell the truth. "Both, actually."

"Hang on and I'll grab another orange." Charlie turned his back to him as he quietly rustled through the bag of food. Turning back to Don, he held up the water and gave him an inquisitive look. "How are your hands? Can you hold the bottle yourself?"

"Not a chance," Don quietly growled. "Still useless."

"Hey," Charlie chastised him softly as he placed his hand on Don's good cheek. "I don't like that word. I don't think anything about you is useless." His brother opened his mouth to speak, but Charlie quickly cut him off. "No arguments, Don – you'll wake Dad."

Don slowly tilted his head upward and was surprised to see that his father was in a deep sleep. "He's okay?" the agent asked as he fixed his younger brother with a concerned look.

"Just tired," Charlie assured him. "We should let him rest while he can." The professor grew quiet as he held the water bottle to the injured man's lips and let him drink as much as he wanted. When Don signaled he was satisfied, Charlie capped the bottle and went to work on the fruit.

"What's the plan?" the agent asked as he watched the younger man methodically peel the orange, his curly hair falling into his face.

"We're going to see what the morning brings."

"What about Doug? You never did tell me what happened to him."

"Here you go," Charlie said, ignoring Don's question as he popped an orange slice into the agent's mouth.

"I asked you a question," Don mumbled around the fruit.

"We locked him in the basement before we came to get you." The professor hesitated, about to say something else, but decided against it.

"What?" the agent demanded. "Tell me."

"When we were leaving," Charlie spoke softly. "I was driving and we were going back past the house…"

"Go on," his older brother encouraged him.

"I saw him aiming a shotgun at us. As we drove past, I heard it go off. I just stomped on the gas pedal and hoped his aim was bad."

"It appears that it was," Don commented as Charlie slipped another bite of orange between his lips.

"Thank goodness."

Eyeing his brother closely, Don realized what he might be thinking. _No, Charlie. I won't let you and Dad risk your lives for me. I won't. _But instead of trying to flat out argue, the agent decided to try a different approach. "Shot at us that close and missed? So, statistically…"

"I know."

"And the odds of that happening again?"

"_I know._"

"Then you know that there is absolutely no way in hell that we are going back to that house."

"Don-"

"I repeat, absolutely no way in hell. Is that clear?"

Charlie responded by popping another piece of fruit into his brother's mouth and shaking his head. "Like I said – we'll see what the morning brings."

"Charlie-"

"Whatever happens, Don, I know one thing." The professor paused to make sure he had the other man's attention. "Come morning, you _will_ be outvoted two-to-one."

--

"Here you go," David said as he handed Megan a cup of coffee.

"You found coffee?" she asked in surprise.

"Apparently even psychopaths have morning caffeine needs," he joked softly.

"I hate just sitting around and doing nothing." She sipped the hot liquid and savored the warmth as it ran down her throat. Setting the cup down, she traced the rings that stained the wooden surface and sighed. "You think they're still alive?"

"What?" David chuckled. "Little Miss Optimist is giving up on me?"

"No, but trying to stay optimistic gets hard after a while."

"You couldn't tell to look at you," he stated firmly. He sipped from his own mug, enjoying the rich taste and regarded her thoughtfully. "They're still alive."

"You sound sure," she said, although it came out as more of a question.

"After the Russian mob case, when I was spending time over there, I saw things." He smiled at the memory and leaned back in his chair. "Charlie was determined to keep working on that case, no matter what Don said. And Alan just stood aside and let him run with it. It was interesting to watch – Don protecting Charlie, Charlie wanting to help Don, and Alan content as long as his boys were okay." David leaned forward and covered Megan's hand with his, giving her a gentle squeeze. "As long as they're together, they'll be just fine."

They looked up at the sound of someone clearing his throat and found Moulton standing in the doorway. "The sun'll be up in a few minutes so I've got the men getting ready. Care to come out and join us?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Megan smiled.

--

"No," Don said, his tone firm and unyielding.

"I hate to tell you, Donny," Alan smiled sadly. "But you don't get a vote."

"It's crazy," the agent insisted. "He's loose _and_ he has a gun? No, absolutely not."

"It's the only practical choice we have," Charlie argued.

"_Practical?_" Don angrily spat. "There's nothing practical about going back to that place!"

Alan gently cupped his oldest son's face in his hands and held his gaze. "We've made our decision, Donny. We're not leaving you, and you need to rest and heal. We'd never make it as far as the main road."

"Even if we did," Charlie joined in. "We don't know how far it is to town and I wouldn't want to have to count on finding some Good Samaritan driving down the road."

"Do you realize how dangerous this is?" Don argued his case again. "He could be waiting for us to come back-"

"Why?" Charlie interrupted. "I mean, that would be crazy to do, according to some people." He ignored Don's glare and continued. "More than likely he's out looking for us, so this is the best time to try to get back."

"And if we stumble into him on the way?" Don demanded.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Alan replied. "Besides, we might still run into him if we went toward the main road. The truth is we don't know where he is or what he's doing, but we do know what we need to do."

Don sighed in frustration and let his head fall back against his father's shoulder. "Do you know how I'll feel if you get hurt because of me?"

Before either Alan or Charlie could answer his question, they heard the sound of an engine approaching.

"Oh God," Alan breathed. "He found us."

--

"Over there," Megan pointed to a ditch to their right. "Just hidden in that clump of trees."

The deputy slowed the all terrain vehicle down and pulled into another cluster of trees for cover. Travers and Roy looked back at Megan and waited for her orders.

"Go ahead and radio the other teams to head in this direction," she told Travers. "Roy, you come with me."

She climbed out of the vehicle and headed for the van, making sure to keep a section of brush and trees between her and the van at all times. Once she'd gotten as close as she dared, Megan knelt in the dirt and motioned for the ex-Marine to join her.

"What do you think?" she asked as she tightened her vest and checked her weapon.

"Assuming your theory about Banks' being a loner is true, then I think we should just charge it. You take the front and I'll take the back."

Megan chewed on her lip. Was she that confident in her assessment of Banks? If they identified themselves first and there was an accomplice, he could just kill the Eppes then and there – assuming they were in the van. If it was the Eppes and they didn't identify themselves, then they might startle the occupants. That seemed like the lesser of two evils.

"Wonder if Banks kept any more weapons?" Roy wondered aloud. "If we've got three frightened hostages on the run and we scare them, they're likely to shoot."

"Good point," Megan agreed, wondering why she hadn't thought of that. _Because you're too close to the case,_ she chided herself. "Let's do this – you take up a position at the back of the van and once you're in place I'll start toward the front door. I won't announce unless I see someone inside."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Roy grinned, tipped his hat and stealthily approached the van. Once he was there, he crouched behind the back tire and nodded to Megan.

Taking a deep breath, she started toward the front door, making sure to crouch low and keep her gun ready. As she got closer to the vehicle, she was able to see both of the front seats were empty. Megan very cautiously left the cover of the brush and walked closer to the van, her senses on high alert for any signs of life inside. There was still no movement as she got close enough to reach out and place her hand on the door handle. She took a deep breath, offered up a quick prayer and yelled at the top of her lungs, "FBI!"

A familiar face appeared from behind the seats and asked, "Megan? Thank God."

"Charlie?" she inquired as he leaned over the seat and unlocked the door. She climbed in and almost collapsed in relief as she saw the three Eppes men settled in the back of the van, alive and… "Don? Are you okay?"

"He needs help," Charlie told her. "And Doug may be coming after us at-"

"Easy, Charlie," she interrupted. "We found a body at the house. Someone was firing a shotgun and it backfired."

"He was shooting at us when we were escaping," Charlie told her.

"Then you don't need to worry about him any more, okay?"

"Good," the professor said thankfully. "But we still need to get Don help soon. He's in pretty rough shape."

"I'll live," Don spoke up. "I'm just a little sore."

"I'll get the deputy to call for an ambulance, guys," Megan said. "Just hang on for me, okay?"

Don nodded and gave her a small smile. "Sure, but I have to ask a favor."

"What?" she asked, completely baffled by the looks passing between the three men.

"Don't use the word 'hang'."

"Sure," Megan replied, mentally berating herself as she remembered Colby's theory about what went on in the barn. She pointed at the back doors and gestured for Charlie to open them while she waved Travers over. Once he pulled the rugged vehicle to a stop just behind the van, she ordered, "Call an ambulance and tell them we've got a man who needs treatment immediately."

"You got it," the deputy nodded as he radioed her request.

"Agent Reeves?"

Megan looked up and found Roy in the van squatting nest to Don. "What is it?"

"He's sore and needs a doctor, but it's not life threatening."

"Don't tell me…"

Flashing her another cocky grin, he nodded. "Yep, I served as our unit's field medic, too."

"I think I love you, Roy."

"My wife won't like hearing that," he winked. "May I make a suggestion?" At the agent's nod, he said, "I think we should load the three of them up and carry them to the hospital ourselves. I don't really see an ambulance making it out here without getting lost or running into the same kind of problem our escapees here did."

"He's right," Travers agreed. "When I radioed, they were pretty insistent we meet up with them at the main road. We'd do better just to take them in our vehicle."

"Can we all fit?" Megan asked doubtfully.

"The three of them in the back seat," the ex-Marine said. "You and Deputy Travers in the front. You'll all make it."

"And you?" she asked.

Roy grinned again – a sight Megan was growing quite fond of – and shrugged. "I can keep myself entertained until the cavalry gets here."

"Okay," she slowly agreed. "But I'm taking you to dinner before I head back to LA."

"As long as we take my wife, too, you've got a deal."

Roy and Travers gently lifted Don from his father's arms and carried him to the waiting vehicle. As they moved the injured agent, the blanket around him peeked open to reveal part of his chest. Megan couldn't hold back a gasp as she observed the angry bruising and bloody slashes marring her friend's body.

"It was bad," Alan whispered as he climbed out of the van and stood beside her.

"Really bad," Charlie seconded as he followed his brother to the all terrain vehicle.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, immediately realizing how lame and insignificant the comment sounded.

"Let's just get him out of here," Alan replied, smiling at her to let her know he understood what she'd been trying to say.

Megan nodded and watched as the three men settled in the backseat, Don protectively wedged between his father and brother. Charlie and Alan each grabbed the frame of the vehicle with one hand while joining their others across Don's stomach to keep him steady during the long drive ahead. Don let out a deep breath as he placed his head on Alan's shoulder and closed his eyes in anticipation of a brutal, bumpy ride.

"Are you ready, Agent Reeves?" Travers called.

"Yes, sorry," she said as she climbed into the passenger seat. "Drive fast, Deputy, but try to make it as smooth as you can."

"Will do, ma'am."

Megan glanced over her shoulder and was met with two appreciative gazes from Charlie and Alan as they braced a sleeping Don between them. "Just ha-" She stopped short of saying the hated word again, quickly switching to: "We'll be there soon."

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

"Do we really have to do this now?" Alan asked wearily as he perched on the edge of the old, uncomfortable waiting room chair.

"I know this is a bad time," David acknowledged. "But we really do need to get a statement about what happened."

"But Don-"

"It's going to take some time while the doctors check him out and treat him. And I know you'll want to see him as soon as they're done, so let's go ahead and get this out of the way. Please, Alan?"

"Fine," the older man sighed as he leaned back in the chair, idly brushing his fingers over the bandage on his head. The paramedics had taken a moment to assess his injury once they'd made sure Don wasn't in immediate danger. The ride to the hospital had been long enough that the medics had cleaned and treated his head by the time they reached the emergency room, assuring him the wound wasn't severe enough to warrant his own hospital stay. Now he glanced nervously at the clock, wondering just how long it would be before he could be with his oldest son again. "Where do you want me to start?"

"At the beginning," David replied. "When your kidnapper first took you."

"Of course," Alan shook his head. "That's so obvious." He gave David a sorrowful look and wrung his hands in his lap. "I'm not really all together right now."

"No problem – I understand completely."

"Thanks." Alan leaned forward in the chair again, his brow furrowing as he thought back to the day Doug has shown up at the house. "I was doing some yard work in the back – setting up the sprinkler. The hose was kinked up because Charlie never takes the time to roll it up like I've showed him and I was so intent on trying to get it straight that I didn't hear him behind me until he put a gun to my head."

"Who?"

"Doug," Alan whispered. "Of course I didn't know it at the time – just that I was in a very bad situation. Then he grabbed my arm and told me we were going inside or else. He shoved me through to the living room and into a chair and then tied my hands and feet. I tried to ask him what he wanted but he forced a rag into my mouth and taped it in place."

"Did you recognize him at this point?" David inquired.

"No," the older man shook his head sadly. "I thought he was just some stranger off the street and that maybe this was a home invasion. Then he smiled – gave me chills the way his face looked – and said we were going to wait on Don and Charlie to join us. That's when I really got scared." Alan rubbed a shaky hand over his face and took a deep breath. "Must have shown in my eyes because that's when he laughed and asked if I really didn't recognize him. I shook my head and he got really angry. Said it may have been a long time, but that I should never forget family."

"Did that jog your memory?"

"No, but when he said he always thought Charlie-boy and I were better than that… That's when I knew. Only one person ever called Charlie by that name."

"Douglas Banks?"

"Yeah," Alan nodded. "Our old _friend_ Doug. I tried to indicate that I did remember him, but he just growled that I should save it. Maybe later I might be able to prove that I was sorry I'd forgotten him. Then he sat on the couch and turned the TV on like everything was perfectly normal. I tried to ask what he wanted through my gag, but he told me to hush. Said we'd have time for talking once Charlie got home."

--

"So the Murray comment was an attempt to warn Don?" Megan asked softly as she watched the nervous young man seated across the table from her. As soon as they'd reached the hospital, she'd told David to take Alan's statement in the waiting room and she would take Charlie's in the cafeteria. She'd ushered Charlie into the deserted area and motioned for him to take a seat while she made one quick call. Once she'd told Larry that they'd found the Eppes – all three alive – she'd bid him a quick goodbye and joined her friend at the table.

"For all the good it did," Charlie whispered. "Don didn't understand, but Doug did. That's why he hit Dad over the head – as a punishment for what I did."

"You did what you had to do," Megan firmly stated. "Nothing wrong with that. Don'll be proud of your quick thinking."

"Not upset that I got Dad hurt?"

"Your father's fine, Charlie. You were in a tough situation and you followed your instincts." Seeing the lingering doubt in his eyes, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I _know_ Don will be proud of you."

"Thanks," he whispered as he studied the smooth, polished surface of the cafeteria table. "I felt so guilty though. And even more guilty as we sat there waiting for Don to show up. Doug just stood behind the front door and smiled at us like he was the happiest person in the world. I was so scared because I had no idea what he wanted with us, especially Don. They'd never really known each other – just met once at Thanksgiving dinner and that was strained to say the least."

"Strained? They weren't comfortable with each other, or clearly didn't like each other?"

"Doug seemed… unnerved when Don came home. I kept telling him Don was a great guy and that he'd like him, but Doug never listened. He'd insist that Don shouldn't have left home and gotten a job where he was out of touch with us for so long – that wasn't how you treated your family. I… I was a little hurt back then that Don didn't seem to keep in touch, but I never thought it made him a bad person."

"And Doug did think that?"

"Yeah," the professor sighed. "I just gave up trying to convince him and played peacemaker the whole time Don was home. When he went back to New Mexico, Doug seemed to go back to his old self. I never realized that he would…" Charlie shook his head and hunched his shoulders over the table. "I should have realized something was wrong back then – we never would have had to go through this."

"It's not your fault, Charlie," Megan told him. "He might not have liked Don, but I don't think Doug was the same person back then. Something happened to change him and unfortunately he saw you and your father – and Don – as his way to get what he needed."

"A family," the young man breathed. "He actually thought he could get rid of Don and we'd all be one big, happy family again." He looked up at the agent with an expression of utter despair. "That's just crazy, though. How could he ever think we'd want that? Especially after he made us watch him when he…"

_Crap,_ she thought. _So Colby's right – Banks did make them watch while he tortured Don._ She very quietly replied, "He was a very disturbed man, Charlie. There's no way of knowing why he thought the way he did."

Charlie shrugged and went back to examining the tabletop. "He enjoyed it," the young genius breathed, his voice almost cracking. "You could see it on his face when he was hurting him." The professor slid his gaze back to Megan's face as he pleaded, "Why, Megan? Why did he have to hurt Don?"

The agent remained silent, knowing that whatever answer she gave wouldn't be able to take away his pain.

--

"Do you really need _all_ the details?" Alan asked, his voice strained and desperate.

"If you can manage it, yes," David nodded. "I know it's hard, but we need to be able to close this case out as quickly as possible."

"I don't know if I can… It was so hard living through it the first time… I'll try." Alan took a deep breath and in a very halting voice – pausing several times to maintain his composure – he slowly related every bit of torment Doug had put his son through. When he had finally related the last detail, Alan was wide-eyed and shaking so David gently grabbed his shoulders and steadied him.

"I know how hard that was," the agent whispered, wondering how he'd managed to keep his emotions in check as Alan had spoken. "But it's over now – you never have to go through that again."

"Except when I sleep," the older man countered. "Those images are in there to stay, I'm afraid."

"We'll find someone for you and Charlie to talk to," David promised his friend. "To help you deal with them, okay?"

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but right now all I want is to see Don."

"As soon as the doctors are through, I promise we will." He leaned Alan back against the chair and patted his shoulder. "It shouldn't be too much longer."

"I hope you're right," the weary man said as he closed his eyes and willed time to hurry up.

--

"How'd you escape?" Megan asked.

"We tricked him," Charlie told her. "We made him think that we didn't want Don – that we wanted to be with _him_ again."

"That was a very smart thing to do," she praised him.

"It was so hard, though. To make him believe it we had to act like we didn't care what happened to Don. The last time he was hurting him, I had to not look or move while he hit him with that damn hose." He traced invisible patterns on the smooth surface of the table as he tried to distract himself from the memories. "Once he left, we told Don how to get loose and called him to us. He was in so much pain but he made himself move toward our voices. And then…" His voice broke and he flattened his hand against the table, rubbing it back and forth over the area he'd been tracing as if he could erase what he'd been through.

Megan covered his hand with hers and leaned over the table so that she was only inches from his face. "Go on, Charlie."

"He came back," Charlie whispered despairingly. He brokenly told her about the last beating, about going to the house and having to pretend he was looking forward to spending time with Doug, and then how he and Alan had locked their captor in the cellar and escaped.

"Way to think on your feet."

"I was desperate to get to Don and get him away from Doug," he explained. "I wasn't thinking – just acting on instinct." Charlie continued relating the details of their escape right up until Megan had shown up.

"Thank you, Charlie," Megan said as she squeezed his hand. "I know that was hard, but that's all I need from you so we can get this case closed." At his weak nod, she pulled him to his feet and out of the cafeteria. "Let's go see if the doctors are finished."

--

"Knock, knock," Colby called as he poked his head into Don's hospital room.

"Hey," Don grinned at his friend as he approached the bedside.

"Man, is it good to see you again," the agent told his boss, trying not to openly stare at the bruises and welts that swirled across Don's uncovered chest.

"Missed me, did you?"

"Are you kidding?" Colby teased. "I was terrified that Megan was going to wind up being my new boss."

"There are worse things in life," Don joked back.

"I suppose, but I can't think of any right now." He motioned to a chair, silently asking if he could have a seat. At Don's nod, he pulled up the chair and took out his notebook. "I know you're eager to see your family but you know the drill. I was hoping to get your statement first."

"Right," Don nodded. "Well, I was out of it a lot of the time. Don't remember too much."

"Anything you can tell me is fine."

Don nodded and related the past few days, starting with the phone call from Charlie and going all the way through to Megan's appearance at the van. Colby maintained a neutral expression, even when Don spoke of the various torture sessions he'd been though at Doug's hands. When his friend had finished, Colby noticed the pinched look at the corner of his eyes. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Don assured him.

"You look like you're in pain," Colby countered as he reached for the call button.

"No," his boss stopped him. "I want to be lucid when I see my family. Then I'll let them dope me up." Seeing the doubtful expression on the other man's face, Don smiled again. "I promise."

Colby warned, "I'm not afraid to check up on you"

"Granger," Don growled. "Give it a rest."

"Alright," the younger man agreed. He had one last thing he wanted to discuss with Don before Charlie and Alan showed up and he wasn't quite sure how to approach it. Finally Colby decided that being direct might be the best way to go. "You _are_ planning on talking to someone about this, right?"

"Why?" Don shrugged, wincing as his aching shoulders protested. "It's over with."

"You and your family went through a very traumatic event," Colby quietly pointed out. "You need to deal with it before it deals with you."

"I appreciate your concern, Colby, but I don't see the need."

"You were tortured," the younger man responded. "It may seem like it's over, but there are nasty little lingering effects that will show up soon."

"Really?" his boss asked dryly. "And here I was thinking Megan was the psychology expert on our team."

"I had a friend that went through this," Colby informed him. "In the war. He got captured and they tortured him for information. He survived and made it back home and thought he was okay, too. Thankfully the Army makes you see someone after an event like that, so he got help before it got too bad."

"Fine," Don sighed. "I'll think about it when we get home."

"One more thing?"

"Only one?" the injured man asked with a heavy sigh.

"Take Charlie and Alan with you when you go."

"No way," Don vehemently shook his head. "I won't put them through that again."

"I know it doesn't seem like it, but it will help them to be there with you. That I _do_ know firsthand." At Don's inquisitive look, Colby told him, "I was there when they hurt my friend. It was hell to watch and I thought it would be just as bad to relive it at his therapy session with him, but I was wrong. Going to therapy with him was the best thing I ever did and it made our friendship even closer once we'd dealt with it."

"Really?" Don asked, this time without any trace of sarcasm.

"Really," Colby nodded. He watched as the injured man thoughtfully chewed his lip and then nodded.

"I'll think about it."

"Good. And you've always got my number if you need me."

"Thanks, Colby."

"Anytime. Now, let's see about getting your family in here."

--

"Donny!" Alan joyfully greeted his son as he rushed to his bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," he answered truthfully.

Charlie pulled up two chairs for him and his father. "What'd the doctor say?"

"That I'll be fine," Don smiled. "No major injuries."

"Details, son," his father pressed as he took a seat in the chair.

"Lots of bruising and a couple of infected gashes, not too badly though. He gave me some antibiotics to take and said it should start to get better in a day or two."

Charlie eyed one of the deeper cuts on his brother's chest, held together by butterfly bandages and inflamed around the edges, and wondered what Don's back must look like. He pointed at the angry bruising around the agent's rib cage and raised an eyebrow. "What about that?"

"A couple of bruised ribs," Don told him. "Nothing a little rest won't fix."

"And the bruising over your kidneys?" the professor asked as he remembered the wicked looking injury to his brother's lower back.

"Again, just bruising – no damage to the kidneys themselves." He smiled at his family and chuckled. "I told you there's no major injuries."

"Knee?" Charlie asked, deciding to ignore his brother's comment and do his own interrogation.

"Swollen and bruised, just needs some rehab."

"Your legs?" his little brother continued as he remembered the sound the hose had made as Doug beat Don.

"Do I have to get the doctor to show you my chart?" Don sighed. "I'm fine, guys."

"We're just worried, Donny. Humor us?" Alan reached out and gripped Don's hand in his and frowned at the expression that crossed his oldest son's face. "What?"

"It's nothing," Don quickly shook his head.

"What?" his father insisted. He squeezed Don's hand in support and immediately felt his stomach knot as Don stared forlornly at their entwined fingers. "You can't feel that, can you?"

"The doctor says that's perfectly normal after being suspended by your wrists for so long," the agent said as calmly as he could. "The feeling should come back in a day or so."

"'Should'?" Charlie repeated.

"Yeah," Don mumbled as he avoided their gazes.

The professor was about to ask what would happen if it didn't, but decided to focus on being positive. "Of course you'll get feeling back, Don. Now, about this rehab – you can do it outpatient?"

"Yes," the injured man nodded happily. "They're releasing me tomorrow morning and we can go home. I just have to meet with a physiotherapist and get my schedule set up."

"That's good, Donny," Alan rubbed his son's forearm and nodded. "It'll be good to go back home."

"Can we, though?" Charlie suddenly asked. "I mean, isn't the house a crime scene?"

"They should be done with it by now," Don assured him. "Especially since we've been found and our abductor is dead."

"I'll ask Megan to make sure it's okay," Alan said. "And if it's still off limits, I guess we can stay at your apartment for a few days."

"Gentlemen," a nurse smiled as she peeked into the room. "I'm afraid visiting hours are over for the night. Come back tomorrow morning?"

Charlie leaned close to his brother and grabbed his arm just above his lightly bandaged wrist, not wanting to be away from Don again any time soon. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his father copying his actions and he gave the nurse an imploring look. "Please, we _need_ to stay."

"Our family has been through a lot," Alan added. "We need to be together now."

"I'm not supposed to bend the rules," she stated with a wink. "But if you were to stay very quiet and let our patient sleep, I don't see how I would know you were here."

Charlie promised, "You won't hear a word."

"Okay, but if anyone asks, I know nothing about this." She started to leave, but Don cleared his throat to stop her.

"I could use something for pain," he told her, wincing as the ache in his body seemed to worsen.

"Donny," Alan scolded. "You should have said something sooner."

He shrugged. "Didn't hurt before."

"Why don't I believe that?" the nurse asked as she injected something into his IV. "This will help in a few minutes. It'll also put you out for the night, so I'd suggest you get comfortable." Turning to the other two men she gave a quick wave. "Good night."

"_Are_ you comfortable?" Charlie asked. "Want me to help you shift?"

"I'm good, Buddy. As good as I'm going to get in here, at least. Thanks though."

"Close your eyes and rest, Donny. We'll be here with you all night."

"I know, Dad," the injured man yawned as his eyes drifted shut. "Thanks."

Alan watched his son as he fell into a deep sleep, waiting until he knew Don was out to begin smoothing a hand though his hair.

Charlie smiled as he observed his brother and father, feeling comforted by the fact that they all were safe and together. He lightly traced Don's fingers and wondered exactly how good his chance of regaining feeling in those numb digits was. _Doesn't matter,_ he told himself. _Don always gets better – he has to._ Stifling his own sleepy yawn, Charlie laid his head on the bed next to his brother's hand and let out a deep breath. As he drifted to sleep, he barely registered the feel of his father's hand in his hair, too, soothing both of his sons into a peaceful slumber.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

"Couch," Don stated firmly.

"You need rest," his father argued back as he and Charlie supported the injured man at the bottom of the stairs. "You're not going to get that on the couch."

"I've slept there a million times," the agent countered.

"Not when you're recovering from countless strains and bruising. You need to rest in a real bed."

"But-"

"The doctor said bed rest, Don," Charlie sided with his father. "Not couch rest."

"You just don't want me trying to make an escape." Don's words were dripping with sarcasm but a note of weariness and pain had crept into his voice.

"There's that, but more importantly you need to _rest_," Alan repeated firmly as he steered his oldest son to the first step. "One at a time, nice and slow."

Don weakly gripped to the railing with his left hand and Charlie was thankful that enough sensation had returned in his hands that he was capable of performing the small task. He watched as Don stepped up onto the first stair and instantly knew this was going to be an arduous task. "You need a little help?" Charlie inquired.

"Yeah," Don sighed in defeat.

"I've got your right arm," the professor assured him said as he tightly gripped his brother's elbow.

"And I'm right behind you, Donny," Alan promised. "I won't let you fall."

"Thanks," Don whispered as he forced himself up onto the next step. After an eternity he finally made it – panting and sweating as if he'd run a marathon – and let his family drape his arms over their shoulders and walk him into his room. He leaned heavily against Charlie while Alan folded back the covers and adjusted his son's pillows, the two of them then easing him onto the mattress. He bit back a moan as he put pressure on the angry bruises that covered his back.

"Let me get you a pain pill," his father said as he disappeared from the room.

"How bad is it?" Charlie asked softly, frowning at the sweat and lines of pain that covered his brother's face.

"Pretty bad."

"Here you go," Alan called as he returned to the room bearing a glass of water and a heavy-duty narcotic. He lifted Don's head and helped him wash the pill down with a few sips of water before laying the agent's head back onto the pillow.

"Thanks," Don breathed as his eyes drifted shut. He was asleep within minutes, and Charlie smiled at his father.

"Gotta love those pills."

"I know," Alan agreed. "He's so _compliant_ when he's taking them."

"It's a pretty strong medicine," Charlie agreed. "I think it's best if one of us sits with him in case he manages to wake up and decides to go for a walk or something."

"That's a very good idea. I'll let you have first watch if you don't mind."

"Not at all," the young genius agreed as he settled into the chair by his brother's bed. He watched as his father left and then leaned back and studied his brother's injured form, wondering how long it would be – if ever – before the whole family was back to normal.

--

Don's day passed in a blur of semi-lucid moments intermingled with weird and disturbing dreams. It finally reached a point where the only way he knew he was awake was when Charlie or his father were forcing food and drink or pain pills on him. One minute he was lost in a confusing dream world and the next a straw submerged in cool liquid or a spoon of hot, aromatic broth was pressing against his lips, demanding to be swallowed. Then there would be a warm caress on his cheek or brow that ushered him back into the hated dream world where he would again become lost in a disturbing swirl of memories that made his sleep anything but peaceful…

_He was drowning. His whole body was cold and wet and his tense muscles strummed with agony as his captor toyed with him. Water was flooding his lungs and blocking his oxygen, making his head pound and swirl as he gasped for air. He felt the darkness close in and hoped there would be peace on the other side…_

Don came awake with a loud, desperate gasp for air, frantically pushing himself to a sitting position despite the painful protest of his abused arms and legs. As he leaned against the headboard and tried to calm his racing heart, the agent peered through the dark and studied his surroundings – the old dresser against the wall, the photos of him and his family, the nightstand with the familiar alarm clock…

_Charlie's. I'm at Charlie's now._

Don forced himself to take slow, deep breaths as he kept reminding himself that he was safe and sound and with his family where he belonged.

_Even if you did abandon them._

_No! I didn't!_ Don scrubbed his hands over his face and shook his head, desperately trying to get Doug's voice out of his head. _I never abandoned them. I grew up and moved away from home – lots of people do that every day._

_Then why do you feel so guilty?_

Don angrily pushed himself out of bed, almost hitting the floor as he put weight on his bruised knee. He clung to the mattress and waited for the throb to subside before carefully limping to the bedroom door and peeking into the hallway. Deciding the coast was clear, the injured agent hobbled toward the bathroom as quickly as he could, holding his breath until he was safely locked inside. _The last thing I need right now is for Dad or Charlie to find out I can't sleep._

Don turned on the tap and splashed the blissfully cool water on his neck and face, enjoying the increased alertness it brought with it. Turning the faucet off, he grabbed a towel and sat on the edge of the tub, wincing and shifting as a bruise on his upper thigh made its presence known. Once he was in a tolerable position, Don patted himself dry and thought about how happy he was to be home – well, at Charlie's. He knew from snatches of conversation between his father and brother, that Alan had called Megan before they left the hospital to make sure they could return home. She assured them the house was no longer a crime scene and was ready for their return, but what she hadn't mentioned was that she and the rest of his team, along with Larry, had cleaned the house from top to bottom so that there was no remaining hint of what had occurred. Don remembered standing just inside the front door, supported on either side by his father and brother, and inhaling the comforting, familiar scent of home.

A soft knock on the bathroom door interrupted his thoughts, followed by his brother's quiet, "Don?"

"Give me a minute," Don called back as he flushed the toilet. _Don't want him to think I'm just sitting here in the dark._

"You should have woken me up so I could help," Charlie called through the closed door.

"I've been toilet trained longer than you've been alive," the older man responded testily.

"Yeah, yeah," his little brother said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "But it's not good for you to be moving around without help. You're supposed to be resting, remember?"

"How could I forget with you and Dad reminding me every time I wake up?" _Damn – didn't mean to say that out loud._

Charlie's tone was wounded. "Sorry."

Don pushed himself off the tub and limped to the door, quietly pulling it open to find his brother leaning against the wall and pouting. "I'm sorry, Buddy," he whispered quietly.

"Not a problem," Charlie replied with what he meant to be a casual tone, but the hurt and confusion were still present.

"I mean it," Don insisted. "I'm just tired and…"

"Sore?" the professor asked, instantly leaning forward to study his big brother in the dark hallway. "Do you need a pain pill?"

"No, it's not that bad. Just that underlying twinge that won't quite go away. I guess it makes me cranky."

"Do I need to help you back to your room?"

"I can manage," Don warmly smiled as he patted Charlie on the shoulder. "Unless it'll make you feel better to help."

"Wow," the genius chuckled. "I can't believe you just said that. Normally I'd take you up on that in a heartbeat, but… well…"

"What's wrong?" the agent asked, his voice now filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Well, not fine. I mean…" He laughed and brushed his hair from his face as he shifted his weight between his feet. "It's just… I came to the bathroom for a reason, you know?"

"Oh, right." Don started laughing, too, both getting louder until they were afraid they'd wake up their father. "If he wakes up and finds us giggling like idiots outside of the bathroom because we had to go, he'll schedule us both for a psych eval."

"Good point," Charlie grinned. "So, get out of my way already."

"Good night, Charlie," Don smiled as he started the long trek back to his room.

"Night, bro."

The agent slowly hobbled back to his room, shutting the door behind him and easing himself down onto the mattress. Lying back, he quietly hissed as the bruises on his back came in contact with the bed and took several deep breaths as his body adjusted to the pain. Don was finally settled and had just entered the fringes of sleep when he heard someone creep into the room.

"Checking up on me, Charlie?"

"Actually, no," his father's voice replied.

"Dad? What're you doing up?"

"I had to go to the bathroom," the older man explained. "Since I was up I thought I'd make sure you were doing okay."

"Did you run into Charlie?" Don asked sleepily.

"No," Alan answered. "Is he up too?"

"Just a few minutes ago," the agent remarked. "He had to go to the bathroom, too."

"What a coincidence," Alan stated dryly.

"That's one explanation for it," the injured man replied sarcastically. "That, or none of us can sleep."

"You're having problems sleeping?" his father asked, concern coloring his voice.

"About as much as you and Charlie are."

"Oh. Right. Well, it's hard."

"Don't I know it," Don sighed, not believing he was being this open about himself. _Damn pills._

"Nightmares?"

"They're not sweet dreams, but that's as much as I'm saying."

"Hey," Charlie called from the doorway. "How come I wasn't invited to the party?"

"Come on in," Don beckoned. He carefully pushed himself up to lean against the headboard and switched on the lamp, frowning at the worn looks on his brother's and father's faces.

"Don't we make quite a threesome," Alan observed as he, too, noticed everyone's haggard appearance.

"Have a seat, Charlie." Don gestured to the foot of his bed.

The younger man eagerly obeyed and cocked his head at his father. "You can't sleep either?"

"No," Alan replied. "I keep thinking – or dreaming – about what happened. I can't seem to get it out of my head."

"Yeah," the genius whispered. "Me too."

"Is it really that bad for you?" Don asked, starting to think Colby might have been right.

"What kind of question is that?" Alan snapped. "We had to watch everything he did to you."

"It was like someone had grabbed my heart and kept squeezing it," Charlie told his brother. "I wanted to stop him, but I couldn't. I felt so helpless… useless."

"Hey," Don soothed. "To quote a genius I once heard, there's nothing useless about you. Got that?"

"Sounds like a dork," Charlie snorted.

"At times," the agent teased. "But he's the only dork I want with me when the going gets tough. He's helped me out of a lot of tight jams and hard cases and I love him for that."

"So you're saying you only love me for my brains, not my looks?"

"Yeah," Don rolled his eyes. "That's it exactly."

"Thanks for the compliment, Don," Charlie smiled appreciatively. "But I still feel bad about the whole situation. After all, I was the one who made friends with Doug all those years ago. I should have seen something wasn't right about him."

"I should have, too," Alan agreed. "I'm supposed to have good instincts when it comes to protecting my sons and I failed."

"No, you didn't," Don argued. "Doug didn't want to hurt you and Charlie – he wanted to be a part of your family. There wasn't any bad vibe that you could have picked up on. I only met him that one time and that whole dinner was awkward because of how long I'd been gone so I don't see how you could have sensed anything out of the ordinary."

"A father should know," the older man insisted.

"Well, if I'd been home more I think you would have. Heck, if I'd been home more then he never…" He quickly trailed off, mentally berating himself for coming dangerously close to bringing up a topic he wanted to avoid at all costs.

Alan pressed, "What?"

"Nothing," the agent answered, sliding his mask back into place.

"Don?" Charlie asked. "What were you going to say?"

"I'm tired," he replied. "I think I need to get some more sleep. Do you mind?" He gestured toward the door, hoping against hope that his family would get up and leave him alone.

"No," his father said in that tone he reserved for when his sons were being stubborn. "Finish the thought."

"Dad-"

"Donny."

"You listened to what he said, didn't you?" Charlie demanded. "When he said you abandoned us – you were listening to him."

"He was crazy," Don said, but his voice lacked any conviction.

"Yes he was," his father spoke softly. "But you still heard the words."

"Kind of hard not to when he's yelling and beating the crap out of you at the same time."

"You know they're not true," Charlie insisted as he saw the uncomfortable look on his brother's face. "You _do_ know that, right?"

"I left home," Don stated flatly. "I got a job where I couldn't stay in touch with my family." He eyed his father and gave him a long look. "Remember what you said to me? When Coop came back? That sometimes when you're chasing someone, you're actually running away from something else. You meant the family."

"Oh, Donny," Alan breathed. "I wasn't saying that you abandoned us, son. I didn't mean it like that at all. I knew you were good at fugitive recovery and that you loved working with your friend. I was terrified you might go back to it, so I said anything I could think of to keep you from leaving again."

"Leaving," Don repeated. "See?"

"Leaving home, not abandoning your family. There _is_ a difference."

"I don't see one," the agent quietly argued, feeling his own hurt growing. "And if you didn't think I had abandoned you, then how did Doug take my place?" _God, you sound so pathetic, Eppes!_

"Take your place?" Charlie asked, stunned by his brother's words. "He didn't… He was a friend, Don. Someone who liked me despite my genius and all of my quirks. You remember how hard it was for me to find someone like that."

"Right," Don nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Charlie asked. "For?"

"For ever doubting you and Dad – ever doubting how you felt about me. I _know_ better." Don rand a shaky hand through his hair and closed his eyes. "But when I was hanging there and he was hitting me… there was a time when you didn't say anything. I knew better, but part of my mind started telling me that he was right and that you had finally realized that."

"Donny," Alan whispered as he joined his son on the bed, leaning against the headboard next to him. "We had to make him think that so we could escape."

"I know that," Don insisted. "I do. But that's how I felt for a moment and I'm sorry for that."

"Don't be," Alan told him. "You know why?"

His oldest son remained silent, afraid to ask.

"Every minute that we feel sorry about something – Charlie about befriending him, me not sensing something was wrong, you doubting us – Doug wins. That's what he wanted – to tear us apart." Alan clasped Don's hand in his and squeezed tightly. "And I refuse to let him win."

"Dad's right," Charlie said as he climbed up to the head of the bed and leaned against the headboard on his brother's other side. "I don't want him to win."

"Donny? How about you?"

The injured man stared at his hand where it rested in his father's grip as he thought about what he'd said. _He's right,_ Don thought to himself. _Doug did want to tear us apart so he could take my place, but… Dad and Charlie didn't let him. Our bond is too strong._

Charlie shifted closer to him, laying his head on Don's shoulder like he had when they were kids. The younger man slipped his hand into his brother's free one, tangling their fingers together so tightly that Don doubted anyone could ever tear them apart. He suddenly found himself awash in several comforting feelings – love, belonging, safety – and a smile spread across his face. "No," he whispered. "I'm not going to let him win either."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Don nervously bounced his left knee – his right one was better, but still too sore for excess movement – as he eyed the polished receptionist's desk in front of him. He couldn't believe he'd agreed to do this, but after so many sleepless nights he didn't feel like he had any choice. Colby had suggested he talk to a shrink when he'd been in the hospital and Megan had nagged him about it everyday since he'd been home. The agent only had one more week of medical leave left – thank goodness, because he needed to get back to work even if was going to be desk duty for two weeks – and Don had decided he'd better try the therapy thing so he wouldn't be falling asleep at work.

The older man seated next to him in the waiting room gave him a pointed look as his knee bounced faster, so Don mouthed an apology, leaned forward and grabbed a magazine without looking. He flipped it open and was puzzled to find an article on how to find that perfect pair of dress shoes. He quickly turned the page and landed on a recipe section. _What the heck?_ Don looked at the cover and groaned as he realized he'd grabbed a women's help magazine. He tried to sneak it back on the table, but the third man in the waiting room snickered at him.

"What?" he snapped. "I picked up the wrong magazine by mistake."

"Right," the curly-haired man snorted. "Tell me, were you looking for fashion advice or cooking tips?" He burst into laughter, earning a glare from the receptionist. Lowering his voice, he continued, "Or sewing? I know you've been dying to make something for yourself."

"If you don't-"

"Agent Eppes?" the receptionist called.

"Yes?"

"Doctor Snyder will see you and your family now."

"Here we go," Don whispered nervously as he stood and looked at his father and brother. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Any time," Alan assured him as he clapped his shoulder. "Thank you for inviting us."

"Yeah," Charlie chuckled. "It'll be interesting to see if you blame Mom or Dad for all of your problems."

"Mom and Dad are safe," Don shot back. "My problems stem from something known as the 'dreaded little brother'." He ruffled Charlie's hair to ensure the younger man knew he was teasing, laughing as the professor tried to fend him off.

"Agent Eppes?" the receptionist interrupted questioningly and Don had a feeling it was the 'Agent' part she was wondering about. "Doctor Snyder is waiting."

"Sorry," he and Charlie both grumbled at the same time.

Taking a deep breath, Don gripped the doorknob, looked over his shoulder to his family's supportive expressions and slowly opened the door.

"Agent Eppes," a silvered haired, balding man greeted amiably. "Come in, come in."

Don led his family into the room and shook hands with the doctor. "Nice to meet you," he said. "Megan speaks very highly of you."

"Ah, yes. How is she these days?"

"Good," Don told him. "She's my second in command. Before you know it she'll be running her own office."

"She always did have that drive," Snyder smiled. He peered around Don to the other two men and gave a quick wave. "You must be Don's family."

"I'm his father, Alan Eppes. This is my other son – Don's younger brother – Charlie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," the balding man said. "I think it's a great idea for you to come to therapy together. You'll all heal so much faster with this amount of support."

"That's what we're hoping," Alan said as he joined Don on the couch. Snyder motioned for Charlie to take a seat, which he did on Don's other side.

"Ready to get to it?" Snyder asked as he opened a file. Once his patients had nodded, he smiled and began summarizing from the report. He read off the details of their abduction, capture and eventual rescue. He started to go into details about the actual time in captivity which set the three men to fidgeting and shifting uncomfortably on the couch. "So all three of you are having problems sleeping since the incident. Nightmares or just restlessness?"

"Nightmares," Alan and Charlie answered in unison.

"Don?" the doctor queried.

"Yeah," the agent reluctantly admitted. "Some."

"I see," Snyder commented. "Well, I have no doubt the dreams are due to the trauma you all experienced at your kidnapper's hands. Don from being tortured and you two from having to watch."

"No offense," Don remarked dryly. "But even I knew that."

"None taken," the silver haired man smiled. "I tend to talk things out to their most basic level so my patients fully understand where I'm going. I can skip that if you like."

"Please."

"Alright. Then let's jump straight to treatment. I think the best step would be Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy."

"That sounds good," Alan nodded. "Of course I have no idea what that is."

"CBT involves detailed imagining of the trauma in a safe, controlled environment so that you can face and conquer the fear and stress associated with the incident. We can do it a couple of different ways, depending on how you all feel." Seeing that his patients seemed fairly receptive, Snyder leaned across his desk and held Don's gaze. "Since you don't seem to be expressing some of the more extreme symptoms torture victims sometimes experience, I would lean toward the slow and steady option as opposed to what we call 'flooding', where you face everything at once."

"Slow sounds good," Charlie quietly offered.

"Fine with me," Don shrugged. "When do we start?"

"We can do the first session today if you think you're ready."

"As I'll ever be," the agent sighed.

"Alan? Charlie? Are you two ready to start?"

Alan answered, "Whatever is best for Donny."

"Alright then." Snyder stood up from his desk and relocated to a leather chair positioned by the couch. "You're already where I want you. Charlie and Alan, you'll mainly be providing Don support while we go through the details of what happened to him, but you should benefit from this as well. I imagine you both felt pretty helpless as you watched Doug hurt Don?"

"Extremely," Alan agreed.

"So your goal here is to relive this with him and this time he will be right next to you. You can hold him, touch him, whatever you need to do to assure yourself that he's okay. That way when the memories come back later, you'll associate them with being close to him and helping as opposed to being helpless."

Charlie smiled weakly. "Sounds good."

"Don," Snyder spoke to the agent. "You said you felt ashamed that your family had to see you go through that and alone because you knew they were there, but couldn't reach out to you."

"Right."

"Well, we're going to imagine that it's happening again, only this time your brother and father are with you – talking to you and reassuring you." The doctor settled into his chair and lowered the lighting in the room using a remote. "I need all three of you to take some nice, deep breaths for me and just relax. Keep an open mind as I talk and do your best to follow my commands, okay?"

"Sure," Don sighed as he closed his eyes and sagged back against the couch.

"Today we're just going to start with the first part of your captivity. You were hung by your wrists?"

"Yes," Don answered, his voice hard and strained as he remembered the intense pain of the metal bracelets as they'd dug into his skin. He felt two hands gently encircle his wrists, lightly massaging the healing flesh.

"We've got you, son," his father whispered in his ear.

"Thanks, Dad."

"He hung you just high enough that you could barely reach the ground and you had a bad knee, right?"

"Yeah," Don whispered.

"So it was either put weight on your knee or hang by your arms. I imagine that was very painful."

"My arms hurt," the agent breathed. "I thought my shoulders would rip right out of their sockets but I couldn't do anything about it. I just had to hang there on display and wait to see what he was going to do to me." His voice broke and he took a long, deep breath. "I knew Dad and Charlie were there and I couldn't be weak in front of them, so I promised myself I'd stay quiet, no matter what. It was hard, too, because I hurt so much…"

"It's okay, Donny," Alan soothed. "We don't think you're weak."

"You're the strongest person I know," Charlie joined in, kneading his brother's tense shoulders. "I was terrified about what he was going to do to you but you were so calm that I could get through it."

"And then he started to assault you," the doctor stated quietly. "He used an old leather rein to whip you. I know it's hard to do, but try to remember what that was like – the sound of it, the feel of it – as he hurt you."

Don's body tensed and he weakly jerked against his family's grip as he remembered the way the leather bit into his skin over and over. "It stung," the agent said through his ragged breathing. He flinched again as he remembered a particularly vicious blow across his stomach – one that had resulted in a deep bloody gash that was likely to scar.

"We're with you now," Alan reminded his oldest son as he slipped his arm around the agent's shoulders. "Doug can't hurt you any more." He pulled his son close and whispered comforting words in his ear, his voice growing more confident as the tension started to leave Don's body. "Just relax and breathe for me, Donny. That's it."

Don's hand shifted to his stomach, coming to rest right over the scar that was hidden beneath the navy blue polo tee. His expression clouded with pain until Charlie's hand replaced his, lightly smoothing across his tense abdomen. "I've got you," the professor whispered. "He's never going to hurt you again, I promise." He continued rubbing at the taut muscles in a steady rhythm until the last of the tension fled Don's body. The agent sighed and allowed his head to rest on his little brother's shoulder as he cracked his eyes open. Drowsily blinking the world into focus, Doctor Snyder's warm expression was the first thing Don saw.

"How do you feel?" the balding man inquired.

"Tired," the agent mumbled. "No, not tired. Relaxed. Comfortable." He turned his head from Charlie to Alan and then back toward Snyder. "Safe."

"Good, Don. That means the therapy is helping." He jotted a note on his legal pad and then looked up to the other two men. "Charlie? How do you feel?"

"Not so useless," Charlie replied. "I know it seems silly, but I feel like I was actually there for him when it happened. I mean, I know I was, but now I feel like I was able to help him through it."

"That's the whole point," Snyder informed him. "Alan? How do you feel?"

"Like I did my job as his father – making him feel safe and protected and comforting him when he needed it."

"Then I would say today's session was an outstanding success." Snyder stood and returned to the chair behind his desk. "It was just the start, of course, and we _do_ need to work through the rest of your ordeal, but I think it would be detrimental to force you all through it today." He opened his weekly planner and scanned for the next available appointment. "Normally we would revisit the same particular trauma multiple times, but I'm going to let you three judge if we need to do that. Do you feel as if you can sleep now?" The Eppes men all answered in the affirmative, which made Doctor Snyder chuckle. "Three men so different and yet so obviously alike. And with a bond so strong among you – that's a rare treasure to find."

Don looked between his brother and father, smiling as he said, "And one I don't intend to lose."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

"I thought I was a guest in this house?" Don groaned as he scrubbed a pot over the kitchen sink. "How come I'm doing dishes?"

"You ate and you didn't cook," Charlie pointed out as he dried the plate his brother handed him. "You know the drill – that means you clean."

Alan smiled over the top of his newspaper at his two sons as they bickered over the dishes. "Just like old times," he chuckled quietly. "Donny, you're not a guest in this house – you're family."

"Meaning I have to do the dishes," the agent grumbled.

"Meaning you belong here, whenever you need support or just want company."

"And that you have to do the dishes," Charlie sing-songed.

"That's not fair," Don grumbled, but he was grinning ear to ear.

"If you don't want to clean, then get here early enough to cook," Alan suggested.

"Dad!" Charlie gasped through a fit of laughter. "Are you trying to kill us all?" His amusement quickly faded as his older brother splashed him with dishwater. "Hey! Watch it!"

"Just trying to help keep that hair of yours in peak condition," Don smiled innocently. "I know it's what drives the ladies wild."

"Jealous?"

"Never," the agent vowed with a twinkle in his eye. "Might want to check your shampoo bottle, though."

"Are you two planning on finishing tonight?" Alan sighed. "Because I thought we were going to watch that old baseball flick Don loves so much."

The two brothers rolled their eyes, but made short work of the remaining dishes and followed their father into the living room. Don started to grab the DVD and queue up the movie, but his neck and shoulders spasmed, freezing him in place while he slowly flexed the muscles.

"I'll get it set up," Charlie told him as he grabbed his brother's elbow and steered him to the couch, gently pushing him to sit on the cushions. "You keep working on that and just relax."

"Thanks, Buddy."

"Little brothers have got to be good for something, right?" the younger man said with a wink.

"Can I do something to help?" Alan inquired as he watched Don roll his shoulders and stretch his neck.

"I'm fine. It's already starting to go away." He sighed and wearily lay back on the couch, carefully angling himself toward the television. "I guess that's why they won't let me in the field yet."

"I imagine it would be pretty bad if one of those spasms hit while you were pursuing a suspect," Charlie commented as he sank into his chair and started the movie. "You just have to be patient, you know. You'll be back in fighting shape soon."

"Not soon enough," the agent muttered. "Two weeks of desk duty has turned into four. If I don't get cleared this time, I think I'm going to go stir crazy."

"Donny."

"Sorry," he apologized to his father. "But sometimes it seems like I'll never really make it back." He saw the older man's look and quickly held up a hand. "I know, I know – I have to stay positive. I really am trying, Dad."

"I know," Alan nodded. "And I know how hard it is. But you're doing so well with your recovery. Don't let something like negative thinking ruin it, okay?"

"I won't," Don assured him. "I promise."

"Hey, you two," Charlie snapped playfully. "I thought we were watching a movie."

They all grew silent as they sat in the flickering light of the television screen, watching but not really seeing the movie. They'd fallen into an evening tradition of dinner followed by some late night activity so that they could stumble to their beds and fall asleep, too exhausted to be bothered by any nightmare that might crop up. Don was well enough that he could manage – albeit awkwardly – by himself at his apartment, but insisted on staying at Charlie's because he'd become so dependent on their routine.

The movie finally ended and Charlie groggily sat up and turned off the television, plunging them into near complete darkness. "That was a good movie," he yawned.

"One of the classics," Don agreed. He waited for his father to make a comment, frowning when he was met by silence. "Dad?"

"Right here, Donny."

"You okay?"

"I don't think any of us are," Alan advised him. "We've been going to those therapy sessions for how long? Three weeks now? And at the end of every session we all talk about how much progress we've made."

"We have, though," Charlie argued. "Before we started I could barely sleep at all. Now I get a few good hours on a consistent basis."

"But only because you stay up late enough that you're too exhausted _not_ to sleep. We've simply replaced one problem with another."

"What do you suggest, Dad?" Don inquired. "If the therapy isn't working-"

"I didn't say that," the older man replied. "I think it's working quite well, but we're too worried that when we try to go to sleep at a normal hour we'll find out we're wrong."

"That makes sense," Charlie agreed. "So tomorrow night we should eat dinner, skip any other plans and go straight to bed?"

"That's the only way we'll know for sure," Alan said.

"I guess it won't hurt to try," Don mused.

"Then we have a plan," his father stated. "Let's finish up our zombie routine tonight and tomorrow night we'll see if we can manage that next step."

--

'Tomorrow night' brought a very quiet, uncomfortable dinner as each man wondered what the night would bring. Don was terrified that they were about to find out the therapy wasn't helping and that he might very well have to kiss his career as a field agent goodbye. He ate about a third of his food and waited for his brother and father to finish, not surprised when they left the same amount of food on their plates, too. Alan scraped their dishes clean and rinsed them in the sink, telling his sons that they would be fine to sit overnight.

"Off to bed we go," Charlie stated with a nervous chuckle.

The three men slowly walked to the staircase and began the climb to the second floor, Don leading the way as usual so that his father and brother could catch him if he stumbled. As they reached the upstairs hallway, he eyed his room as if it were a snake waiting to strike. Glancing over his shoulder, Don wasn't surprised to see looks of trepidation on their faces as well. "So, good night, I guess."

"Good night," Charlie swallowed nervously.

"You know what?" Alan spoke, his voice loud and unnatural in the silence of the hallway. "We're up here to try this, but we don't have to try this alone. We are taking things one step at a time, right?"

"Right," Don nodded. "So, whose room are we crashing in?"

"Dad's got the biggest bed," Charlie stated.

"Fine with me," their father smiled. "Let's get ready for bed and meet in my room."

Don grabbed the bathroom first and went about his pre-bedtime routine, then slipped into his room and changed into an old FBI tee. He padded down the hall and into his father's room, smiling as he saw his father propped against the center of the head board, Charlie lying curled up on his right. Alan patted the open spot on his left and Don happily eased himself onto the mattress. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it wasn't normal for a grown man to be sharing a bed with his father and adult brother, but then he reminded himself nothing about the ordeal they'd lived through was normal.

"Charlie's already out," Alan whispered to him.

"That's great," Don smiled.

"Your turn, Donny." Alan gently pushed on his oldest son's shoulder until the agent was lying down, his head against his father's hip. He rested a hand on top of Don's head, running his fingers though the short, dark strands in a hypnotic rhythm.

"G'night, Dad," Don whispered as he concentrated on his father's touch. He soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep and didn't notice when – only a few moments later – the hand in his hair stilled as his father followed his sons into a deep slumber.

--

Over the next few days the Eppes continued to push their recovery, one step at a time. They eventually started sleeping through the night in their own rooms and then started to cut back on their time together in the evening. The true test came when – after finishing dinner – Don made an announcement.

"I guess I should head back to my apartment." He spoke casually and even forced a little yawn, but the looks he received from his family were anything but calm.

"Are you sure about this, Donny?" he father asked as he leaned forward and studied his oldest son. "You don't have to force anything, you know."

"I think it really is time to face it," the agent replied. "Don't get me wrong – I've loved spending time with you two lately, but I want my life to go back to normal."

"Oh," Charlie whispered. "Normal."

Seeing the disappointment on his little brother's face, Don reached out and patted his shoulder. "Well, not just like it was before. I'm definitely planning on spending more time over here than I used to."

"Good," the professor smiled.

"But I do need to get back to my apartment and then back into the field – back to who I am."

"If you're sure you're ready," Alan agreed. "I'm behind you one hundred percent."

"Thanks," Don said, glancing at Charlie. "What about you, Buddy? Are you okay with that?"

"If that's what you need, then yeah."

"Thanks." It dawned on the agent that maybe his family wasn't over their trauma. "Wait – are you both okay with this? I don't have to if you want me to stay."

"The last part of our recovery is to see you back to normal," his father told him. "So you need to take this step for all of us."

"No pressure, huh?" Don quietly joked.

Alan reached out and covered his oldest son's hand with his and squeezed. "No pressure at all, Donny. I mean that."

"Still," the agent shrugged. "I won't let you down."

"You never have, son. Not even once."

--

Later that night as he lay in his bed waiting for sleep to come, Don wondered if he'd lied to his father. He was so tired and the room was so warm, dark and inviting, but he still couldn't seem to sleep. Thoughts of what might crop up in his dreams kept his nerves on edge and knowing that his family wasn't there if he needed them only heightened his anxiety.

_They're a phone call away,_ he reminded himself. _All you have to do is call and they'll break every traffic law in the city to get here as fast as they can._ He took a deep breath and swore to himself that he wouldn't do that to his family – that he would be strong for them no matter what it took.

Feeling a little more confident, Don forced the tension to flow from his body and let himself slide off to sleep…

_He was back in the barn, hanging by his wrists, only… it didn't hurt. Instead of a sharp biting pain, there was a warm solid grip that was somehow supporting his whole body so that his arms and shoulders weren't under any strain. He relaxed into he comforting feeling but was caught off guard as Doug appeared in front of him, smiling and laughing as he raised his arm – hose in hand – to land a blow across his stomach. As his captor's arm swung down, Don closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain that would follow, only… it never came. _

"_He'll never hurt you again," Charlie's voice floated next to his ear. The agent opened his eyes and found his little brother blocking his view of Doug and acting as a barrier that his attacker couldn't penetrate. "He'll never hurt any of us again."_

_Don smiled and relaxed as the presence that had been supporting his body materialized into his father, who hugged him from behind while Charlie embraced him from the front. "We've got you, Donny."_

Don's eyes cracked open and he immediately winced against the sunlight pouring through his bedroom window. _I slept through the night,_ he thought happily. _In my own apartment, in my own bed – I made it through the night!_

He thought about calling his brother and father to let them know but a huge yawn convinced him to grab a few more winks while he was already comfortable. He sighed sleepily and rolled over in bed, letting his eyes close again. This time sleep came quickly and he didn't resist it at all, knowing that the nightmares of this ordeal would never visit him again.

The End


End file.
